The Twist in the Truth
by 554Laura
Summary: Set in the first half of Season 10. Booth gets a visitor that triggers a chain of seemingly unrelated events. What is the common thread binding the cases together? A case fiction. Nope, I still don't own Bones. (Thanks to Galaxy Gurl for helping me name my story.)
1. Chapter 1

Booth groaned as he looked through the large stack of file folders on his desk early on that rainy Monday morning. Thirty open cases to reexamine, fifteen that needed protocol reviews, and ten to finalize, all by the end of the week. The FBI was in the process of converting from storing boxes of old paper files in the basement to storing information on the cloud, and the old case files had to be checked over thoroughly before they were converted to the new data storage system. All of this work was being done as quickly as possible to make their new director happy. "Thank you, Deputy Director Jamison," Booth grumbled, "for giving me this fun little chore, because I didn't already have enough work to do."

Booth swore under his breath again, thinking about his last meeting with Director Jamison. The man was a pompous jackass, making changes in office routines and procedures for no other reason than just because he could. As he picked up the folder on top of the stack to be finalized, Booth glanced through it, making sure everything was complete before adding his signature. "Special Agent in Charge, my ass. I'm just a glorified rubber stamping paper pusher." Disgusted, he signed the last page and looked over the next file in the stack. "And of course, we're in a hurry. I guess the cloud's gonna get full if we don't get this done quickly." He finalized the last of the files awaiting his signature, and began sorting the open cases to assign to various agents. He looked out at the bullpen and chuckled to himself. "I guess I'm gonna piss off everybody by the time today's over, but I suppose that's my job. I'll look like the no good bastard Special Agent in Charge, and Director Jamison, of course, will come up smelling like a rose. Yep, DC Major Crimes is gonna be a model of efficiency, even if it kills us." He picked up another file and began reviewing the protocol, making sure all the forms were filled out correctly and that the evidence had been handled correctly. He shook his head as he looked through the file. "Damn it. The chain of evidence looks like it was screwed up on this one...just wait until I see McCarthy. He's gonna have to fix this quick before it goes to trial…" Booth started a stack of folders to be corrected and picked up another folder.

Booth was so engrossed in his work he didn't really respond when he heard the knock at his door. He finally looked up as his visitor cleared her throat and addressed him nervously.

"Agent Booth? My name is Agent Stephanie Morrison. Do you have a few minutes? I need to speak with you, please." The slender, middle-aged woman stood timidly in the doorway, waiting to be invited in.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I was concentrating on this stack of files." He nodded to one of the many stacks on his desk. "More busy work from on high, you know. But I don't mind taking a break. Please, come in. I don't think we've met before, have we?" Booth rose from behind his desk and came forward to shake the woman's hand. "What can I do for you this morning?" He motioned for her to sit in one of the side chairs as he took a seat opposite of her. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I can't stay very long." Agent Morrison fidgeted in her chair, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. "I'm in cyber intelligence with the Domestic Terrorism unit. I worked with Hayes Flynn before his death..."

Booth sighed and looked away from Agent Morrison as he rubbed his chin. "I hated what happened to him. Hayes was a great guy..."

"He said the same of you, Agent Booth. He said you were a good man who could be trusted to do the right thing." She hesitated a minute before continuing, choosing her words carefully. "I was very fond of Hayes. I appreciated your efforts to prove that he wasn't in collusion with Christopher Pelant. I know you went the extra mile for him even though he was already dead, and I want to do something for you in return."

"That's not necessary…" Booth held up his hand to interrupt Agent Morrison. "Hayes was my friend, and I was not about to allow that bastard Pelant ruin his reputation by framing him. I felt I owed Hayes that much."

Agent Morrison nodded her head, leaning forward in her chair. "Yes, it is necessary for me to do this. I want to repay your kindness to Hayes by helping you avoid a possibly dangerous situation that may arise soon." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and exhaled slowly before continuing quietly. "I have some information you'll need to keep your family safe. What I'm going to tell you is very important, but it's also off the record. There are several people here at the Bureau who want this information to remain a secret. If anyone asks me, I will deny that I told you this information, and if they ask you where you got this information, you cannot mention my name. Please do not write any of this information down, either on paper or on your computer, and this information must be on a need to know basis only. The fewer people who have access to this information, the better it'll be for all of us. Failure to meet these conditions could have deadly consequences for both of us. Do you understand, Agent Booth?"

Booth was startled by her serious tone of voice. He paused for a few seconds, trying to decide what Agent Morrison could possibly tell him that would be worth of all this secrecy, but he felt like he had to find out what she knew. "I understand completely. You have my word...I'll keep my source a secret. Please go on."

"Domestic Terrorism and RICO worked together approximately 3 years ago to arrest and convict a man named Robert Riggs on a variety of charges related to racketeering, counterfeiting, prostitution, and other organized crime activities. Riggs died suddenly in the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary three months ago. The coroner said it was a stroke."

Booth was confused. "Well, that's unfortunate for Mr. Riggs, but I don't know how this affects me."

"Riggs' wife Lisa seems to be emotionally unstable. She's convinced the federal government somehow ordered her husband's murder as a part of a conspiracy or cover up. Mrs. Riggs is also an obsessive fan of your wife's books. She's a member of several websites devoted to Dr. Brennan's mystery novels. Because her husband was in prison for organized crime activities, we've kept an eye on Mrs. Riggs. There's been some internet and twitter chatter about Mrs. Riggs trying contacting your wife to look into her husband's death. She's also mentioned it several times on her personal social media pages. She wants to hire your wife to assist her in proving that her husband's death was murder."

"I can assure you that my wife would refuse to take on a case of that sort. Dr. Brennan does contract work for the FBI, but she doesn't do freelance investigations into other suspicious deaths." Booth eyed Agent Morrison warily. "So Domestic Terrorism can use cyber forensics to track a person's activity on the internet? Don't you need some sort of warrant for that?"

Agent Morrison shrugged. "What we do is perfectly legal, according to the Patriot Act. If there is reason to think that a subject may be involved in planning acts of domestic terrorism we can do internet surveillance to find out what sort of websites they frequent. You know, we check on whether or not they frequent sites that tell people how to build bombs or where they can steal submarines...things like that. Mr. Riggs had visited various websites dealing with white supremacy groups and for some groups promoting various levels of anarchy in the United States." She chuckled nervously. "Nothing anyone does on the internet is completely private, Agent Booth. Big Brother can always find out what someone is doing in cyberspace if necessary. It's just a matter of knowing where to look."

Booth grimaced slightly. "That's a scary thought, Agent Morrison…."

"Perhaps...but we must be vigilant, correct? Prevention is easier than repair, at least in this case. Anyway, based on what we know about Mrs. Riggs from her social media commentary, she isn't a person to take no for an answer when it comes to Dr. Brennan investigating her husband's death. She is determined to contact your wife at all costs. The FBI considers Mrs. Riggs to be dangerously volatile, and capable of violence. She might threaten the welfare of your wife or family to get what she wants from Dr. Brennan. Mrs. Riggs might even go so far as to try kidnapping Dr. Brennan or your child. I thought you should know that this threat exists, even if it hasn't been officially acknowledged by the FBI." Agent Morrison stood to leave. "Remember, you didn't hear this from me."

"Right. Thanks. I appreciate it." Booth stood up and shook Agent Morrison's hand again. "I'm really sorry about Hayes. I know his death must have been a terrible shock for you."

"Yes, it was. We had become very close…." She wiped a tear away and gave Booth a small smile. "So now we're even, you and I. Thank you for your time, Agent Booth. Take care."

Booth stared out of his office window as he considered the unsettling information from Agent Morrison. It was hard to believe that someone would threaten his family so that Bones would look into a suspicious death, but he knew he couldn't take any chances. He and Bones would tighten their cyber security at home, and reevaluate their personal alarm systems for their house and cars, and he'd ask Cam for additional security at the lab. It was hard to imagine that someone would go to such lengths to get Bones to look at a case, but Agent Morrison seemed to have credible information, and he had no reason to doubt her sincerity. He hoped this threat wouldn't materialize, but he knew he couldn't take any chances. They'd take whatever steps were necessary to protect themselves from Lisa Riggs.


	2. Chapter 2

Booth walked into his office, stirring his cup of coffee. He sighed as he saw that another thick stack of file folders was laying on his desk. Grimacing, he took a sip of his coffee and slumped into his chair. He shook his head as he looked over the top file. "I see the case review fairy has visited me again." He wasn't sure he wanted to know how many files were actually in the stack, but it looked like it was at least twenty. "Great. Just what I needed...more busy work." He leafed through the notes attached to the outside of the file folders and cursed softly as he rubbed his eyes. "Damn it! It looks like most of these are protocol errors. Now I have to have a meeting to go over protocol again so we can avoid all this extra work, which means more time away from solving cases. I must've really pissed someone off upstairs. I may never get back out into the field at this rate..."

"Good morning, Agent Booth. May I have a word with you please?" A slender, immaculately dressed middle aged man stood in the doorway. "Oh, I'm sorry. I see that you're busy. Perhaps I should come back another time." He gave Booth an artificial smile as he pretended to turn and leave. "I certainly wouldn't want to keep you from reviewing those case files. It looks like your department has problems with protocol issues, doesn't it?", the man asked in an unctuous tone.

 _Only because you keep changing the damn rules._ "Deputy Director Jamison...Of course, I have time to talk to you. Please sit down." Booth pasted on his own fake grin as he quickly put away the file he had been working on. _Jamison is a real snarky bastard...he's glad I have to clean up this shit..._ "It does seem that we need to review some of the new protocols, sir, but I'm sure we'll be able to fix the problems easily. Most of the problems with these cases are minor issues…mostly mistakes in filling out paperwork. I'll have a meeting with the agents that report to me so I can stress the importance of keeping up with all the details that are required to properly fill out all of the forms. Can I get you a cup of coffee, sir?"

"No, thanks." Jamison eased himself carefully into a chair across from Booth and stared at the top of Booth's desk, avoiding eye contact as he smoothed his tie. "I just wondered if, by chance, an agent named Stephanie Morrison has contacted you within the last few weeks….tall, attractive, middle aged...a brunette... do you remember her?"

"Actually, she stopped in the other day...last Monday, if I remember correctly. She knew I had worked with Hayes Flynn in the past and she wanted to reminisce a little bit about him. It seems she was very fond of him. She implied that they were close friends. I think she took comfort in the fact that I thought he was such a good guy." Booth sighed and shook his head. "Poor Hayes. It was a terrible situation, you know? Losing him like that? And then Christopher Pelant tried to make it look like Hayes was a crooked agent. Fortunately, we were able to find the evidence proving that Pelant had framed him so his reputation was restored. I think it pleased Agent Morrison that we were able to clear Flynn's name. She said she wanted to express her appreciation for our efforts. That's all it was...a courtesy call."

"Yes, what happened to Hayes was indeed awful." A look of suspicion quickly passed over Jamison's face as he studied Bobblehead Bobbie. Jamison hesitated slightly before asking his next question. "That's all she wanted? To talk about Flynn?"

"Of course." Booth made a conscious effort to project no emotion, even though his gut was telling him something was very wrong. _Why would Director Jamison want to know about Agent Morrison's visit?_ "Is there some sort of problem, sir? It was just a short social visit...nothing to do with any of the cases in my division."

Jamison pursed his lips slightly as he nervously folded his meticulously manicured hands on his lap. He spoke slowly, enunciating his words with precision. "Well, confidentially, Ms. Morrison is no longer employed by the Bureau. It seems her personal feelings for Flynn affected her judgment and the quality of her work. Did she happen to mention anything specific she was working on when she visited you?" Jamison gave Booth a pointed look. Clearly he thought something important had been discussed.

Booth shook his head. "No, just that she was in cyber intelligence." _Not really a lie….I'm not sure I want to tell Jamison the rest of it….._ "She just said that Hayes had mentioned me and she wanted to know what I thought about him. As I said, she wanted to thank me for proving his innocence in the Pelant matter."

"I see." The expression Jamison wore indicated that he was trying to decide if Booth was being truthful. He smiled benignly as he rose from his chair. "Well, I'm glad you could offer her some comfort. Too bad things didn't work out better for her, right? Thanks, Booth. I'll let you get back to work." Jamison rose from his chair and turned to leave. "By the way, if she does contact you, please let me know. Thanks again."

Booth watched the director leave, dumbfounded at what had taken place. Why would Jamison be so interested in Agent Morrison? Did Jamison have any idea about what really had been discussed that day? Booth's gut was nipping at him again. Something was fishy. He took a thick manila file folder out of his desk drawer and read the name again before opening it:

ROBERT RIGGS (deceased)

oooooooooo

"Booth, what do you have to tell me that's so important that it couldn't wait until tonight? You know I have a lot going on at the lab with the new interns and the three new sets of remains. I was planning on eating lunch in my office this afternoon, remember?" Brennan gave her husband an annoyed look as she took her seat opposite from him at the diner.

"I know you're really busy, but I needed to talk to you, and I didn't want to tell you what happened over the phone. I'm not sure who might be listening to my calls." He paused as the waitress brought Bones a cup of coffee and a menu. "Strange things are going on at the office…"

"Why? What's wrong?" Brennan felt a small shudder of discomfort pass over her. It seemed that Booth was still suspicious about how some issues were being handled at the Bureau, even with the change in the director's positions. "Does this have anything to do with Agent Morrison's visit? I thought you said that what she told you was off the record."

Booth gazed out the window and shook his head. "I may be imaging things...it could be that I've become as much of a conspiracy nut as Hodgins." He took a sip from his coffee cup and hesitated before he began to tell his wife about his latest visitor. "Deputy Director Jamison came by my office this morning to find out if Stephanie Morrison had visited me and what we had talked about, but from the way he acted I'm pretty sure he already knew the answer to both of his questions. He was just trying to pump me for information."

Brennan's brow furrowed as she tried to understand what Booth meant. "I don't understand why a visit from Director Jamison would be a problem, Booth. After all, he is your supervisor…"

"Because it's just too much of a coincidence. It seemed like he knew what Agent Morrison and I had discussed, and for some reason he wanted my confirmation about it. I got the feeling that he was trying to catch me in a lie." Booth drummed his fingers on the table as he stared out the diner window. "He wanted to know details about what she had said, but I could tell that he didn't want to ask me directly. Then he told me she'd been fired because her personal feelings for Flynn had affected the quality of her work. That probably means she stuck her nose into someone's confidential business, and they felt threatened by her investigation."

"Did Jamison threaten to fire you, Booth?" Brennan watched as he shifted nervously in his chair and fidgeted with his napkin. He was clearly upset but she wasn't sure why. She still didn't understand why he felt so anxious about Jamison's visit.

"Not in so many words, really, but he's been putting a lot of pressure on me lately...giving me a lot of extra work on top of what I already do, going over all our case files with a fine toothed comb, like he's just looking for things to ding me on, and then he shows up and wants to know about my private conversations with other agents. I'm not sure I trust him, Bones…"

Brennan placed her hand over Booth's and gave him a small squeeze. "I know it's been difficult making the adjustment to going back to work for the FBI after everything that happened to you. Is it possible that you're seeing trouble where there isn't really any trouble at all?"

Booth grimaced slightly and nodded. "That's why I wanted to talk to you about this thing. The whole situation seems strange, but I don't know if it's really strange, or if I just don't trust anyone any more." He gave her a faint smile. "I'm sorry your crazy ass husband dragged you away from work, Bones. I….I just needed to talk to someone I can trust, you know? And I've always been able to trust that you'll tell me what you think, whether I want to hear it or not. That's part of why I love you so much…."

"I'm always here for you, Booth, no matter what's going on at work. You're far more important than anything that occurs at the lab. I'm glad we've talked about this situation." She took a sip of her coffee. "Have you mentioned your concerns to Aubrey?"

"No...I'm not even sure there's really anything to be concerned about...I'm just gonna wait and see what happens. There's no need to drag him into something that may not even exist. I'm pretty sure this will all blow over soon enough." Booth glanced at his phone. "God, look at the time. I guess I'd better get back to work…." He gave Brennan a kiss before he left. "Thanks again for listening to me and my crazy ideas, Bones. I love you. See you tonight."

"I love you, too. See you this evening." Brennan finished her coffee as she gazed through the window, watching her husband walk toward the Hoover. Clearly Booth was agitated by the situation, but she was unsure on how to help him. She sighed as she got ready to go back to work, hoping that time would ease his mistrust and anxiety.


	3. Chapter 3

Brennan was still contemplating her discussion with Booth as she walked back into the lab that afternoon. He remained extremely distrustful when it came to some of the people in leadership positions at the FBI, and she was trying to understand the cause of his concerns, wondering whether or not his anxiety in this situation was valid. Being lost in thought over her husband's unhappiness, she didn't hear the woman who was rapidly approaching behind her until the woman accosted her roughly.

"Dr. Brennan, please...if I could have a few moments of your time...", the woman began loudly, panting as she firmly grabbed Brennan's arm with one hand and waved a file folder with the other. "I want to discuss something with you. I have a case that I think you'll be interested in working on." The large blonde woman had chased Brennan down as she walked through the lab and now tried to stand in front of Brennan's door to prevent the scientist from entering her office. "This case is worthy of a forensic anthropologist of your caliber, Dr. Brennan. I think you'll find it most interesting. I'm your biggest fan! I just love your books, and this mystery is certainly as intricate as anything a reader might find in one of your stories! Please let me show you this file..."

Brennan pulled her arm away from the intruder and studied her cautiously. "Who are you? Have you checked in with security? You shouldn't be in this part of the lab. This area is off limits for visitors." Pointing to a sign above the lab entrance, Brennan spoke to her visitor as the woman tried to enter her office. "Authorized personnel only. I don't think you have permission to be here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Please leave immediately before I'm forced to call security. Perhaps you should make an appointment." The woman quickly moved to block Brennan's entrance to the office.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan...I didn't realize I had to check in with security, but I'm so anxious to discuss this situation with you." The woman's words rushed out in a torrent of emotion. "If you could just give me a minute, I'd appreciate it so much.…. My name is Lisa Riggs, and my husband Robbie died under mysterious circumstances…I need your help to solve this crime...I just know he was murdered and no one will listen to me. If someone with your reputation would look into the situation, I can get the authorities to take me seriously...with the equipment you have available you could check his remains for all sorts of poisons or toxins, just like Kathy does in your books…."

Brennan tried to remain calm, remembering what Booth had said about this woman. She definitely did not want to upset this intruder. "No, Mrs. Riggs, I'm afraid I can't give you a minute. I'm truly sorry for your loss, but there are protocols that must be followed here in the lab. I am contracted to work for the federal government. I don't do freelance work." Reaching into her pocket, Brennan pulled out her phone and dialed quickly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Riggs, but you leave me no choice. Yes...Security? This is Dr. Brennan. Yes, I need assistance by my office." Brennan glanced at Mrs. Riggs, hoping she'd take the hint. "That's right...immediately. Thank you." She ended the call and stood with her arms folded across her chest. "I'm sorry that I am unable to assist you. I would suggest that you engage a private detective to look into your allegations. Because I work for the federal government, anything I found out would have to be turned over to them." Brennan nodded to acknowledge the two security guards who had entered the lab area and pointed to the intruder. "Please escort Mrs. Riggs out of the building."

Lisa Riggs wasn't going to give up so easily. "Dr. Brennan, could I leave the file with you so you could read over it? The federal government murdered my husband while he was in prison at Leavenworth. They poisoned him or something. He was perfectly healthy, but they said he had a stroke. There's some conspiracy...just read through it. It's something that Kathy would want you to do..."

One of the security guards took Mrs. Riggs by the arm. "You need to come along, ma'am. You can't be in this area." The guards tried to escort Lisa Riggs out of the restricted area, but she reacted violently, flailing her arms and kicking at the guards' shins.

"Let go of my arms! Get off me!" Mrs. Riggs screamed as she used her fist to assault the guard. "I'm not leaving this lab until Dr. Brennan promises to look at my husband's file. Don't you understand? He was murdered, and I have a right to seek justice on his behalf! This lab belongs to US citizens. You work for me! You can't make me leave!" More security personnel came to assist the guards in removing an irate Mrs. Riggs from the lab. "You'll be sorry! You'll wish you had helped me! I'll be back, and I'll make you listen to me! The feds can't get away with it. I'll have my revenge! You'll see!"

Brennan's hand shook as she called her husband's phone. "Booth, I need you at the lab…NOW!"

ooooooooooo

"What've we got, Aubrey?" Booth walked up the front sidewalk of the tidy little house and found Agent Aubrey standing on the front porch talking to a local police officer.

"Hey, Booth. Sorry to drag you all the way out here to the suburbs, but I thought you'd want to see first hand what happened. The next door neighbor says she heard what sounded like a loud car backfire, so she looked over to this house and saw that the bedroom window looked like it had been shot out. She tried to call the homeowner but got no answer, and the front door was locked, so she called Metro to have them do a safety check. When the locals broke down the door, they found the victim in her bedroom." Aubrey stopped talking as the paramedics brought out a stretcher with a body bag on it, followed by another local police officer and an FBI forensic tech.

"It sounds really bad, Aubrey, but why am I here? I mean, I'm sorry the homeowner died, but it almost sounds like it was an accident, or maybe a home invasion gone wrong…not really something for the big boys." Booth stood scratching his head as he watched the paramedics load the body into the ambulance.

"Our victim has a massive gunshot wound to the chest. Metro called us because of her identity. She used to work for the FBI. Her name was…."

Booth suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he realized the victim's identity. "Stephanie Morrison? Goddamn it...what did she get herself into…."

"Yeah. How'd you know who it was?" Aubrey was surprised. "I just found out myself. Are you okay, Booth? You look a little pale."

Booth nodded and rubbed a hand across his eyes as they walked through the house to the bedroom. "I'm fine...just a little shaken. Ms. Morrison came to my office a few days ago to talk about a mutual friend." Booth decided not to share everything with Aubrey….the less Aubrey knew, the better off they'd both be, at least until there was more concrete information available. "So what happened? What does Metro say?"

"The blood and tissue splatter on the back wall of the room seems to indicate that she was shot through the chest with some sort of high powered semiautomatic rifle. The shot entered through her bedroom window and probably pierced her heart. Basically her chest cavity exploded. To me, this looks like a professional hit." Aubrey shook his head. "What I don't understand is why she was shot in the chest. A hit like this is usually a head shot."

Booth was grim as he stood surveying the bloody crime scene. "Christ, this is unbelievable. She never had a chance...This was a warning, Aubrey. Whoever killed Ms. Morrison wanted me to know immediately who the victim was, and they knew that I'd understand why this happened. They're telling me to back off...to mind my own business and stay out of the way."

Aubrey looked at Booth in disbelief. "Seriously, Booth? Who would want to do that…and why her? That seems a little extreme, doesn't it?"

He paused as an FBI tech came into the room to take samples, followed by Deputy Director Jamison. "Well, Booth...", Jamison started as he looked around the bedroom in horror, "this is unbelievable, isn't it? God, what an awful thing to happen to someone. Poor Stephanie…"

"I'm sorry, sir...I don't want to appear rude, but who called you?" Booth was surprised to see Jamison at a murder investigation out in the suburbs. Directors didn't usually show up at crime scenes.

Deputy Director Jamison appeared to be calm and composed under Booth's intense scrutiny. "I heard about it while I was at the office. Someone called me to let me know what had happened, and I came to check on the situation here as soon as I could. After all, she used to work for me. I want to make sure we do everything we can to find out who committed this crime. I'd like you to personally handle the investigation, Booth...you and Aubrey, of course."

"I understand, sir. Of course, I'll handle the investigation. It's important to me personally as well as professionally." As he walked over to inspect the horrible mess on the bedroom floor, Booth's gut was nagging him again as he thought about what was happening. It was too much of a coincidence that Jamison would show up at Stephanie Morrison's house so soon after she was murdered. It was almost like he knew in advance what was happening...things just didn't add up right...Booth watched as Deputy Director Jamison and Aubrey walked over to the window to see if they could figure out the bullet's trajectory. He walked over to speak to one of the techs about sample collection when his phone rang.

"Booth….wait, what? Jesus! Okay, look...alright, easy. Just calm down, Bones. What happened exactly? Oh my God. Yes, I know...okay...yes...yes. I know. Look, I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? I'm on my way.." He waved at Aubrey and Jamison. "Family emergency. I've gotta go take care of something immediately. I'll call you as soon as I can."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Time for an alpha male display..._

Booth ran out to his SUV and drove away from Stephanie Morrison's house, tires squealing as he pulled onto the street leading out of the subdivision. He turned on his siren as he got to the end of the block and sped through the midday traffic, weaving in and out of lanes, trying to get the lab as fast as he could. He figured he might be reprimanded for using his siren for a family emergency, and it was entirely possible that someone would call the FBI to complain about his driving, but he didn't give a damn. He had to see Bones as soon as he could. He had to see for himself that she was safe, and if it meant he had to spend six months in traffic school it'd still be worth it as long as he knew his wife was okay. His eyes darted to the rear view mirror as he changed lanes again. "Come on! Get out of my way, you stupid jackass…" He laid on the horn, trying to get the taxi in front of him to move into the next lane. "You're supposed to clear the lane for a vehicle with a siren, moron…"

It seemed like hours, but in reality, Booth was at the Jeffersonian in less than ten minutes. He strode quickly through the museum's halls until he got to the door of Cam's office. Brennan was sitting there serenely, as if she and Cam were simply enjoying a cup of tea and a chat. "Bones! Oh my God. Are you alright? She didn't hurt you, did she?" He pulled her into a bear hug as he sighed with relief. "I was so worried about you! So what happened? How did she get in here?"

"I'm fine, Booth." Brennan smiled as she gave her husband a kiss. She glanced down at her arm, wincing as she stretched. "I have a bruise from where Mrs. Riggs grabbed my elbow when she first accosted me, but other than that, I'm uninjured." Glancing at Cam, she continued calmly. "It seems, based on what we've seen of the museum's security videos, that Mrs. Riggs entered the museum through one of the main entrances and then wandered around until she found one of the staff entrances to the lab. The guard that's normally on duty there is out ill today, and his substitute had stepped away for a minute. It was just a series of errors that allowed her to access the lab…."

Booth was livid. "Goddammit! What is wrong with the security around here, Cam?! Any lunatic can just slip past the security guys who are standing around doing nothing and make threats on anyone, is that it? Did anyone even notice that Lisa Riggs didn't belong here? Didn't anyone challenge her? Come on!" He paced furiously back and forth in Cam's office, raging furiously about the lack of precautions that had been taken. "I asked you to add extra security, Cam, remember? I asked you to add more guards around the lab! Jesus...I guess anybody can just waltz in here and threaten my wife! What if that woman had been carrying a knife or a gun? Do you realize how close we came to Bones being injured...or even worse? All because some stupid son of a bitch needed to pee and couldn't wait until his coffee break? Unbelievable!"

"Booth, take it easy." Cam spoke slowly, trying to give him time to calm down. "I realize our security has gotten a little lax around here, and I'll make sure there are steps taken to improve it. However, it would've been helpful if you'd given me some more details about what you were expecting to happen…"

He exploded again. "Maybe you wouldn't need extra security if the security guys that were already here actually did their jobs! How did Mrs. Riggs even get past the front desk in the lab's lobby area? Nobody challenged her or asked her where she was going, did they? Didn't anybody think to call Bones to find out if she was expecting someone? I'm just thankful that crazy lady wasn't armed. I shouldn't need to give you a lot of details, Cam...you've known me a long time. You know I don't make requests like this without a good reason….Jesus…" He stopped and pounded his fists on Cam's desk. "I don't believe this…we have to take care of this now! Where's the guy in charge of security for this place? I wanna see him right now!"

"Booth…" Brennan tried to soothe him by placing her hand on his arm. "I was caught by surprise by Mrs. Riggs' sudden appearance at the lab, and I overreacted. The security guards came within seconds after I called, and they escorted Mrs. Riggs out of the building. I'm sure Cam is going to ask the museum review their security protocols, and they're going to add more officers to the staff. The security staff will be receiving photographs of Mrs. Riggs to ensure that she is never readmitted to the Jeffersonian. No one was really harmed. Please…", she put her hand on his arm, "don't be so upset. I'm alright. It was just a minor incident…."

Booth was still angry as he turned to his wife. "Listen, Bones, I'm so upset about this 'minor incident' because I just came from a crime scene. Stephanie Morrison, the woman who told me about Lisa Riggs, was found murdered in her home. She was shot through the heart, and it looks like it was a professional job. I'm not sure what the connection is between these two women, or even if there is a connection, and not knowing what's going on makes me nervous." He ran a hand across his face and exhaled slowly. "Just thinking about you being in a vulnerable situation like that makes me really crazy...you know that. I don't handle stuff like that that very well. I need to know you're gonna be safe here at work for my own peace of mind..."

Brennan gave him a small smile. "I know, but really, I'm fine. I'm going to get my purse and coat from my office so we can go home, okay?"

Booth nodded as he tried to regain control of his emotions. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go home. I'm too shaky to go back to work anyway." He watched Brennan walk towards her office before he turned to Cam. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong, Cam. I know what happened this afternoon wasn't your fault. That Mrs. Riggs is crazy, I guess." He sat down heavily and shook his head slowly. "It's just….you know...if anything ever happened to her...I mean, you know...if she died... I couldn't live with myself…it would kill me, too…."

Cam sat down next to her friend and patted him on the back. "I know, Booth. I'll get the security situation corrected here at the lab. You just get your wife home and take care of her."

"Yeah, you're right. So more security tomorrow, right?" Booth was nodding as he spoke. "At least temporarily, until I find out what's going on for sure. It's not just about Bones...Lisa Riggs might try to push around anyone who works with her here in the lab...even you...better safe than sorry, you know?"

"I know. We'll get it taken care of today." Cam walked with Booth toward the office door. "Do you really think Mrs. Riggs would have the nerve to show up here again, Booth?"

He nodded grimly. "I think it's possible...and l'd rather be prepared than sorry."

oooooooooo

Brennan glanced at Booth as he drove them home. "Are you upset with me, Booth?"

Surprised, he looked over at his wife. "What? No, of course not. Why would you even think that, Bones?"

"Because you've been very quiet the last few minutes. Normally when you face some sort of emotional upset like what happened this afternoon you are quite vocal in your annoyance, but when you're annoyed with me personally, you often don't say anything, probably because you're afraid you're going to hurt my feelings."

Booth smiled slightly and shook his head. Bones thought she wasn't good at understanding people, but she could read him like a book. "Nah, it's been a really stressful day. I'm not annoyed with you...maybe it's just that I wish you had called security immediately when Lisa Riggs showed up instead of trying to talk to her, but that's not a big deal. I am annoyed by the breakdown of security at the lab, but that's not your fault."

"The lab is a very safe place to work, Booth...you know that. This was just a series of unfortunate errors, but these errors will be corrected, and the lab will continue to be safe."

She reached over and patted his leg. "I'll be okay, Booth…"

"I know that, Bones, but...Jesus, if anything ever happened to you, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I don't know what I'd do…."

"Booth…", Brennan began, "I think you'd grieve, but you'd go on with life if something happened to me. After all, we have a daughter to think of…"

He nodded. "Of course Christine would be a priority for me if something happened to you. But I don't think it's much of an exaggeration to say you are my life, Bones, and without you, I wouldn't be the man I am now. I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow. The thought of some crazy lady bothering you at work makes me feel on edge, and I hate that. Maybe you should take a few days off work...you know, stay home and play with Christine…."

"I have a lot of work to do at the lab, Booth, so staying home isn't really an option." Brennan turned and winked at her husband. "Maybe I should just have an armed guard follow me wherever I go, although that might be uncomfortable in the ladies' restroom since all of the guards are men…."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." Booth pulled out his phone and punched the speed dial.

Brennan cast a wary eye at her husband. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna call Cam and arrange for you to have a personal bodyguard…"

"No, you're not...I don't need a babysitter, Booth…"

"Too bad. You're my wife and I'm gonna make the arrangements that I wanna make for your safety….Hey, Cam? It's Booth. Can you assign a personal bodyguard to Bones while she's at work? Starting tomorrow? Really? Yeah, that'll be great! Thanks..."

"That's not necessary...I can take care of myself, Booth…"

"Okay." Booth smirked at Brennan. "This way you get to take care of yourself and a bodyguard, too. Pretty soon you can become a full fledged security specialist. Until then, your personal bodyguard will meet you at your office door tomorrow morning and you two can spend the day together." He held up his hand to interrupt her protest. "C'mon, humor me, Bones...it's just temporary until I know for sure what's going on, alright?"

Brennan sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing it would be useless to argue with her husband. She also knew having bodyguard at the lab would be the only way to ease his mind enough so that she would be able to go to back to work without him constantly looking over her shoulder or calling her every five minutes to make sure she was okay. "Alright...as long as you promise it's temporary…."

"I promise…" he said, as he crossed his fingers in his pocket and grinned to himself. _Temporary for as long as you work there…._


	5. Chapter 5

Booth stood on a street corner watching the patrons that entered and left the nondescript Mexican restaurant in the strip mall across the street. Everyone seemed to be dressed casually in clothing appropriate for the warm weather. He smiled to himself as he surveyed his own beat up jeans and faded tee shirt. No need for a fancy FBI wool suit in this part of the city. He'd be able to blend in easily with the other diners, and he'd be just as forgettable as everybody else who entered or left the restaurant. Booth craved anonymity right now. The less attention people paid to him, the better off he'd be as he tried to figure out the connection between Stephanie Morrison and Lisa Riggs. He watched a few more minutes before sending Aubrey a text asking him to change into some jeans and a casual shirt before meeting him at Don Tomaso's for lunch, and included the fact that he was buying. Booth smiled to himself. Aubrey never could turn down any sort of free lunch.

Booth was already sitting at a secluded table when he nodded to Aubrey after the hostess led the younger agent back to the darkened corner of the restaurant. "Thanks for meeting me here, Aubrey. I didn't want to meet at any of the usual places or my office. I wanna lie low for awhile."

"Well, this is definitely off of our beaten path, but you offered to pay for my lunch, so I decided to show up." Aubrey smiled as he looked over the menu. "What's going on? Is it a two enchilada problem, or should I get three?" Aubrey's smile faded as he noticed Booth's serious demeanor. "Okay...you're starting to worry me, Booth. Is something wrong? Dr. Brennan wasn't injured by that woman who assaulted her at the Jeffersonian, was she?"

"Bones was a little shaken up, but she'll be fine. Mrs. Riggs scared her more than anything, and that's saying something, because Bones doesn't scare easily." Booth shook his head as he looked at his menu. "I don't really know if something's wrong or if I'm just imagining things, and that bothers me. Whenever I start looking into the events that are happening now with Stephanie Morrison and Lisa Riggs, I seem to be finding lots of loose ends, and those loose ends lead to more loose ends. Nothing is connecting, but I still get the feeling that the things that are happening are not just random stuff. Those women have to have something in common, but I can't figure out what it is. I'm also not sure who I can trust at the office. Jamison's been acting strange. He's been on my case even more than he usually is, and for him to just show up at a crime scene like he did is really strange. I don't get it. I mean, Deputy Directors almost never go out in the field like that unless the crime is something involving a serial killer or an act of terrorism. Something's up…"

Aubrey wasn't surprised at Booth's attitude toward Deputy Director Jamison. He wondered if Booth would always mistrust the FBI directors, especially after the recent traumatic events he'd experienced. Aubrey didn't like Jamison either, but he didn't think Jamison was crooked. "What makes you think things are strange at the office, Booth? You've got more than gut instinct going for you on this, right?"

Booth hesitated, and then spoke slowly. "I don't want to tell you everything that I know right now, because the less you know, the safer you'll be. I just need you to do some research for me. I can't do it because I don't want to call attention to myself by messing around with it while I'm at the office." Booth handed Aubrey a large brown folder. "Here's the file on a guy named Robert Riggs. He was married to the woman who harassed Bones the other day, but he died unexpectedly in the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. I'd like to know as much as I can about him, but I'm not sure Jamison would tell me everything about him even if I asked him. If you have time to do a little poking around, it'd be helpful, but be careful. I'm not sure our boss would take it well if you start stirring up trouble, especially since it was Stephanie Morrison who told me about this Riggs guy."

"Robert Riggs, huh?" Aubrey nodded as he glanced through the papers in the folder. "I think I remember him from when I was working in the bunco and fraud division. He was in Leavenworth for RICO stuff, right? The guy looked like a clean cut, pious pastor type but underneath that pleasant exterior was a power crazed felon. He and his family ran drugs, gambling, and prostitution rackets in Nebraska and the Dakotas. It was a multi-million dollar operation at the time he got busted. It was a big deal, because he seemed untouchable at the time. He was real careful to avoid being connected with the illegal part of the business."

"Yeah, that's the guy. It seems from his prison records that he was a model prisoner until about a week before he died, and then for some crazy reason he tried to escape. After the marshalls recaptured him he was put in solitary confinement, where, according to the medical examiner, he had a fatal stroke, even though he was supposed to be in excellent health at the time...there was no evidence that he had heart disease or high blood pressure. I'd like to have Bones or Cam look over that autopsy report if we can get it. It's hard to believe a guy in good health like that would just drop dead from natural causes."

"I'll see what I can do. I've got a contact at the field office in Topeka, and she can help us get the records from Leavenworth. I wouldn't mind talking to her again, anyway." Aubrey smirked at Booth. "So does this mean you're going to reexamine the case for Mrs. Riggs? I'm sure she'll be pleased."

Booth grimaced as he sipped his water. "Not for Mrs. Riggs….for Stephanie Morrison. Jesus...I know there's a connection, but right now I just can't put my finger on it."

"Maybe you're too close to it, Booth. Sometimes it helps to have a second set of eyes look over a case. I'll check into it and see what I can find out, okay?"

"You're right...I may be so focused on the details that I can't see the big picture. It may be that there's nothing wrong at all, and I'm just being paranoid, but I gotta be sure, you know? I won't be satisfied until I know for sure what's going on. I gotta know the truth." Their lunches finally arrived, and they ate in silence for a few minutes, until Booth spoke again. "I'm going to be out of the office for a few days next week because Parker's coming to visit, but I want to stay up on what you find out about Riggs. Just don't email me or call me from work about this case, okay? I don't want this broadcast all over the Hoover." Booth grinned as Aubrey nodded while chewing a mouthful of enchiladas. "Thanks, Aubrey. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Booth. I'll let you know what I find out...maybe next weekend." Aubrey, wiped his mouth, picked up the folder and rose to leave. "Thanks for lunch."

Booth watched Aubrey as he left, hoping he hadn't gotten his friend into a dangerous situation.

oooooooooo

Aubrey was sitting in his car, waiting for Booth at the designated spot in the church parking lot. He checked his phone once again as he drummed his fingers across the steering wheel and adjusted the radio. It was ten minutes after the agreed upon time. Aubrey rubbed his chin as he checked his phone one more time. It wasn't like Booth to be late without letting someone know what was going on.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking in the rear view mirror for Dr. B's car. He didn't figure Booth would drive the SUV….it looked too much like a cop car. He checked his phone again, making sure he had the right date. Yeah, there it was on the calendar and on his email: _Saturday at 10 AM...meet Booth in parking lot of St. Mark's church. Park on north side of lot._

So where was Booth? Surely he'd be here any minute, but Aubrey hadn't managed to convince himself of that. He was becoming uneasy. As a former military man, Booth detested hated being late for anything...

Aubrey glanced at the file folder that had been on the seat next to him, trying to decide about the best way to explain what he had discovered as he discussed the case with Booth. There were several oddities in the file. It appeared that Robert Riggs hadn't existed before 5 years ago….the normal background check period. Interesting...what had he been doing before that? Then, 4 years ago, he'd married Lisa Carnaby, and shortly after his marriage, Riggs had been brought up on a broad range of racketeering charges. The case had been open and shut. The evidence that the federal prosecutor had presented against Riggs was overwhelming, and it seemed like a lot of the witnesses at the trial had almost been standing in line to testify against him. The man evidently had lots of enemies. According to the transcripts of the trial, Riggs' attorney had barely made a defense, and the jury had arrived at a guilty verdict in under two hours. It seemed as if Riggs had wanted to go to prison all along.

Aubrey glanced at his phone again. Booth was almost thirty minutes late. Something was definitely wrong. He started the car and was ready to go to Booth's house to check on his whereabouts when the phone rang on the seat next to him.

"Aubrey? Listen, I'm not gonna get there for our meeting this morning." Booth's breathing was ragged, and he was swearing loudly as he tried to be heard above the noise of the traffic whizzing by the spot on the traffic median where he was standing. "Some son of a bitch ran me off the road into the center median about five miles from my house. I hit the cable barrier pretty hard and spun out into oncoming traffic. Then my car got hit by another car that couldn't get around me fast enough to avoid hitting me. The wrecker's here now to tow the car away."

Aubrey inhaled sharply, struggling to be calm. "Damn, Booth. Are you hurt? Should I come get you?"

"Nah, I'm just banged up some but nothing too serious, and no one else got hurt. Bones is gonna come get me. She'll be pissed about her car. I think it's totaled...the airbags deployed and the passenger side is smashed in. At least I didn't have the kids with me. Goddammit..."

"Did you get the plates from the other guy's truck? Maybe I can run it down and go pick up the driver, you know...see it he's got some connection to the case."

"No, I got nothing. It all happened too fast. I was too busy trying not to hit any other cars to get any tag numbers. All I know for sure is that it was a big white truck, like what the local moving companies use." Booth exhaled loudly in frustration. "Dammit! You didn't tell anyone where you were going this morning, did you, Aubrey?"

"No, not on a Saturday, Booth. Were you followed? Maybe someone knows what kind of car Dr. B drives. Do you think someone might be watching your house?"

Booth swore again. "Looks like it. This sure doesn't look like a coincidence, does it? It almost had to be on purpose. Anyway, I guess I'm gonna be fine. I'm just shaken up a bit. But what about you...did you find out anything new about Robert Riggs? Yes or no?"

Aubrey grimaced. "Yeah….maybe more than I thought, and I think you're gonna want to see it for yourself. Is it okay if I come by your house later today? Maybe I can take a cab instead of the SUV..."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Maybe about three this afternoon, okay? It's gonna take me a few hours to get stuff straightened out with the car. But Aubrey...be careful. I'm not sure who or what we're dealing with here."

"Yeah, I know. Okay, see you later." Aubrey put his phone in his pocket and started his car, slowly pulling out into traffic. It looked like Booth was right….things were getting very weird.


	6. Chapter 6

Early on the next Monday morning, Aubrey knocked on the door frame of Booth's office. "Morning, Booth. Hey, how do you feel after your car wreck on Saturday? You look kind of banged up."

Booth groaned a bit as he turned and looked up at his visitor. "I'm still pretty stiff, and Bones wants me to go to the doctor. She thinks maybe I have a couple of broken ribs from the seat belt, but I'm fine. No big deal...the doctor can't do much for broken ribs anyway other than wrap'em up." He grunted as he turned to access his computer. "And I'm still mad as hell that someone caused me to total a perfectly good car, but I guess I'm lucky that no one got hurt really bad." Booth winced as he tilted his head to either side, struggling to get comfortable. "So did your contact in Topeka have anything new to add about Robert Riggs and his cronies?"

"Not really. Sorry. The guy seems to be a real enigma." Aubrey came in and sat down across from Booth. "She said she talked to someone she knew in the Lincoln, Nebraska field office, who said that both Robert and Lisa Riggs seemed to be normal, average, law abiding folks except for their family businesses, most of which happen to be illegal in the US."

"Great. Just great." Booth leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Obviously frustrated at the lack of concrete information, he growled as he glared as his computer screen. "Now what do we do? More dead ends...I don't know how we're ever gonna get the truth about what really happened in this case. We're running out of leads...I mean the guy was in the federal prison system, you know? How hard can it be to get information on him?"

"Agent Booth?" Charlie stood in the office doorway waving a file folder. "Here's that information you requested on the woman who assaulted Dr. Brennan. Lisa Riggs used her credit card to rent a car at Reagan National and to book a room at the Hartford Plaza Motel over on Richmond Avenue. Based on her cell phone records, it looks like she's been staying in the area around the motel for the last few days…"

"Hey, thanks, Charlie." Booth quickly leafed through the file and found the motel address. Rising quickly from his desk, he grabbed his jacket and his phone. "What do you think, Aubrey? Wanna go for a ride?" He grinned as the younger man nodded eagerly. "Let's go pay a friendly little visit to Mrs. Riggs. Maybe she can give us some information that explains her connection to Stephanie Morrison."

oooooooooo

Booth and Aubrey impatiently followed the elderly desk clerk as he slowly made his way down a dark, dingy hallway toward the room that was registered to Lisa Riggs. "How many days has she been here?", Booth asked the clerk.

"I guess she's been here about four days." The clerk shrugged as he pulled out a set of keys. "She's paid up through Friday of this week. She seems real nice...she's kinda loud and really chatty, but nothin' too bad. No visitors to speak of...doesn't bother nobody..." The clerk stopped in front of a room. "This is it…room 214. I'll just let you fellas talk to her...I gotta get back to the front desk. Don't like to leave things unattended in this neighborhood..." The clerk turned to leave but Booth stopped him.

"Hang on a minute, in case we need your pass key." Turning toward the door, Booth knocked on it loudly. "Special Agent Booth, with the FBI, Mrs. Riggs...open up, please." There was no response from the room's occupant. "We need to talk to you about several different things...Mrs. Riggs? Are you in there, Mrs. Riggs?" Still nothing. "Okay, we're coming in..."

There was no answer except a low moaning sound that seemed to be coming from the other side of the door. Booth and Aubrey drew their guns, and Booth motioned for the clerk to quietly unlock the door.

The agents pushed into the room and found Lisa Riggs sitting on the floor leaning against the room's unmade bed. She appeared to be bleeding heavily from a large gunshot wound to her chest, but somehow she was still alive. She coughed and moaned softly as she turned toward the agents entering the room.

"Call 911! We need an ambulance right now!" Booth yelled to the clerk as he rushed to Lisa's side. The clerk hurried over to the phone on the nightstand to make the call as Booth waved to his partner. "Aubrey….check out the rest of the place. Make sure there's no one else here in the room, and take a look around outside." Turning his attention to Mrs. Riggs, Booth tried to comfort her as he knelt on the floor next to her and used his hands to put pressure on her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "It's okay, Mrs. Riggs. I'm Agent Booth with the FBI. I'm here to help you, alright? I know it's painful, but I need to press on your injury so the bleeding will stop. An ambulance is on the way. Can you tell me what happened?"

Lisa's glassy eyes were unfocused as she slowly turned toward the sound of Booth's voice. He bent down so he could hear what she was saying as she gasped for air. "Don't know how…. he found me. I was... so careful...no followers...Why'd...he shoot me? I said I... wouldn't tell...promised. I told Robbie... not to…. trust them...right?...shot me." She nodded slowly as blood began to trickle from her mouth. "He's gone now….watch out...for him...gotta gun...blow you away….so dark in here...God...I can't breathe...help me...please..." She tried to sit up but her head fell back against the bed. She tried to reach for Booth, but her arm fell limp at her side. "I can't breathe...bastard...I promised. God...it hurts..." She groaned as she tried to grab at Booth's wrist. "It...hurts...big gun...dying…blood...so much...blood...so cold..."

"Stay with me, Lisa. There's an ambulance on the way." Booth was desperate to understand what she meant with her rambling, but she seemed to be slowly slipping away. He could hear the blood gurgling in her chest as she tried to breathe. "Are you trying to tell me something about the person who shot you? Tell me again, okay, Lisa? I don't understand what you're saying..." He shifted his position so he could put more pressure on the gaping hole in her chest, but she was still bleeding profusely "Goddammit." He motioned to the desk clerk who appeared to be in shock. "Quick, get me some towels." Booth spoke softly to Lisa, trying to calm her. "Okay, Lisa. I'm listening. Tell me one more time what happened."

She whispered to him as she tried to catch her breath. "He shot me... because I knew...he wasn't Robbie...he didn't...sound right...it's not... I don't think so... Robbie's dead, right? He died...in prison….feds….he shot me. I won't tell…not the right man...it's a secret...feel funny...dizzy...cold...can't breathe...I promised...didn't believe... me...smells bad...killed him..." Lisa wheezed again as she tried to catch her breath. "Not him….it's not...talks funny...I promised…Robbie...so cold...God...where is he...careful...am...I...dying?...hurts bad….no breath...so much blood...I need...help...please...I promise...I...can't say...anything...Where's Robbie? He's...gone...I'm going...to see...Robbie..."

Aubrey came back into the room and glanced at Booth, who was trying to use bath towels to stop the bleeding as he put more pressure on the wound. "No one else outside and the room is clear. Well? How is she?"

"I don't know." Booth's expression was grim as he tried to help Mrs. Riggs. "She's trying to talk to me but I don't understand what she's telling me. It sounds like random gibberish right now. She's in a lot of pain and she can't breathe. Jesus, we need more towels...Hurry… She's losing a lot of blood, and I can't get it to stop."

Lisa grabbed Booth's arm again like she was trying to focus. She tried to pull herself up, grimacing in agony, and her breathing was becoming labored and shallow. She was struggling to speak as she tried again to tell Booth something. "Robbie isn't... the right one...Robbie...came to the house...wrong one...He sounds wrong... and he...he smells funny...limping...dark... He said I knew... but I didn't, not 'til he 'scaped…won't tell...it hurts..." Her speech was slurring. "I said it... was a secret. He didn't... trust me….I promised... but no trust...shot me...Robbie….dead...you know...in...prison...I promised...shot me..." She was gasping for air as she lay her head back against the bed. "Help me…please...help…me...God...can't breathe...blood...help...cold, so cold...hurts...dying...Want...my...husband...please..." Her eyes rolled back as she let go of Booth's arm and fell back against the bed again.

"Dammit. Where is that ambulance? Hang on, Lisa..." Booth used both hands to put more pressure on the towels to stop the flow of blood, but it appeared he was fighting a losing battle. Finally the paramedics arrived and began to work on getting Lisa Riggs stabilized so she could be transported to the emergency room. She was barely clinging to life when they loaded her into the ambulance and left for the hospital.

The siren got fainter as the ambulance pulled away from the parking lot. The motel room was littered with bloody towels and the materials the paramedics had used to care for their patient. Aubrey shook his head in disbelief as he turned to Booth. "I've called for a forensics team to come sweep the room for trace evidence, but I don't think they'll find much that they can use. Do you have any idea what she was trying to tell you?"

Booth shook his head as he looked down at his blood soaked clothes, wincing in the pain from his broken ribs, and shaky from the adrenaline rush he'd had as he tried to help Lisa Riggs survive. "No….not at all…."

oooooooooo

Aubrey stopped by Booth's office later that afternoon. "Any word from the hospital on Lisa Riggs?"

Booth sighed as he dragged his hand across his face. "She was still alive an hour ago, but she's in extremely critical condition. She lost a huge amount of blood. The doctor gives her about 25% chance of survival. Goddammit..." He grimaced as he shook his head. "If we'd just been there a few minutes sooner…"

"Do you have idea what she was talking about?" Aubrey came in and sat down. "She wasn't making much sense as far as I could tell."

Booth grimaced as he thought about the crime scene. "It's amazing she was able to talk at all. I guess her trachea was almost split in two by the gunshot. It was a large bullet that fragmented on impact with her body." He looked out the window as he considered what had happened earlier in the day. "What was it she said? 'Robbie isn't Robbie. He sounds funny.' She said whoever shot her was trying to keep her from telling a secret."

Aubrey thought for a minute as he stared at Bobblehead Bobbie. "It maybe a stretch, Booth, but I wonder if the attack on Lisa Riggs has to do with happened when her husband went to court on those RICO charges. You know, the transcripts from his trial were really strange. The prosecutor admitted all sorts of shaky evidence, and the defense attorney didn't challenge any of it. If that evidence hadn't been admitted it might have changed the jury's verdict to not guilty. The evidence was presented by the prosecution was mostly circumstantial, without much forensic stuff to back it up. Remember? I said it was like Riggs wanted to be convicted. Could the whole thing have been a set up?"

"Seriously? What kind of setup would it be? A switch of some sort? You mean it wasn't really Riggs that went to prison?" Booth shook his head as he sat back in his chair, considering Aubrey's hypothesis. "Wow…No way. Nope. That's just crazy, Aubrey."

"Or Riggs was sent to prison to do something on the inside for someone. Being arrested and having a trial would give him some credibility in prison. He'd be in the general population since he was a non-violent offender, so he'd be able to find out a lot of stuff while actually being in the prison that couldn't be found out any other way."

"So he was an informant that was purposely planted in a federal prison?" Booth was surprised. "I don't believe it. Who has the muscle to do that sort of thing? One of the big shot RICO guys? You worked with those guys, Aubrey. Could one of them pull off something like this?"

"I don't know." Aubrey shrugged. "It's all speculation on my part. We may not get much further than that if Mrs. Riggs doesn't survive. But it must be someone with a lot of pull to get Jamison to run interference for them and to get you run off the road. There's already been one murder and an attempt at another. Watch your step, Booth."

Booth sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks…."


	7. Chapter 7

Carrying his morning paper and coffee, Booth arrived at the Hoover early on a sunny Monday morning, praying that things had not gone to Hell while he was out the previous week. He had enjoyed the time he'd taken off to spend with Parker and Parker's girlfriend Meredith while they were visiting from England, but he knew that crime wouldn't take a break just because he'd been on vacation, and he'd been proven correct. In fact, judging by the number of folders that were stacked on his desk awaiting his review, it looked like there had been a tremendous increase in cases while he was gone. He swore in frustration as he looked at the top file. "Dammit! I thought putting files on the cloud was supposed to eliminate all this extra paperwork." He groaned as he opened the top folder, sipping his coffee as he read through the sticky notes attached to each page of the file. "Great. Now we're getting dinged for some goddamn spelling errors. Just what I needed to start the week…and a love note from Jamison, too. That's the icing on the cake..."

Booth looked out into the bullpen at the group of agents who worked under his supervision. They were an eclectic combination of personalities, but they had a common focus: they were dedicated to bringing criminals to justice. They were all excellent investigators, intense, driven to succeed, intelligent, and creative in their efforts to solve crimes, just like their supervisor. Their division almost always had the best record in the region when it came to closing cases. As far as Booth was concerned, having to scold them because they misspelled a few words in a report seemed asinine, but that was Jamison's call to make, not his. To make things worse, Jamison made it clear that he expected Booth to hold another meeting with the agents to make sure they understood the importance of proper spelling when filling out reports. Booth continued to grumble, irritated as he scrolled through the calendar on his computer, looking for an available time to hold the meeting, until he saw the day's date. He smiled as he gazed out his office window, allowing himself to get lost in reverie for a moment.

On this date eleven years ago, he'd met Bones for the very first time, and he knew that a lasting relationship between them was meant to be...it was fate. He'd stood entranced as he watched her teaching her class about defleshing techniques in that lecture hall at the university. On that day, his life had taken a dramatic turn for the better. That meeting was the moment in time when he'd had his epiphany. He knew that she was the one who had inspired him to become a better agent...hell, she made him want to become a better man, too, and it was all because of her refusal to settle for anything other than his best efforts at work and at life.

After all this time and all of the drama they'd been through together over the years, he finally had everything he wanted: a great job, a nice house, a beautiful family... but he found that he really missed working on cases with Bones. They had made that decision together...Bones would spend more time at the lab, and Booth would take on a younger partner that he could mentor. They had a child now, and they had more responsibilities. They had to be more careful now. In order to avoid a situation where both of them were in danger at the same time, they had changed the nature of their work partnership in Christine's best interest. It was a logical and rational decision, and he knew it was the right choice, but still…he missed spending time with Bones as they worked every aspect of a case together.

Booth wished Bones could help him with the mountains of paperwork on his desk that morning, but she had her own paperwork to do at the lab. Still...he'd never minded filling out the endless piles of paper that concluded a case when she was sitting across the table from him, listening to him, correcting his grammar, bickering with him, making sure he stuck with facts instead of using his gut, and all the while looking beautiful as she concentrated on her part of the work. He missed those long hours they'd spent together closing cases. Aubrey was good, but it just wasn't the same. Shaking his head, Booth went back to reading through the files. The sooner he started, the sooner he'd be finished….and the sooner he could go home to his wonderful wife...

"Booth! Welcome back!" Aubrey stood in the doorway waving a file. "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Is this urgent? I'm snowed under from being gone last week." Booth smiled sarcastically as he gestured to the stack of files on his desk. "A welcome back gift from Jamison. Just a bit of light reading, you know…"

"Great." Aubrey gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Yeah, that looks like fun, Booth." Aubrey came into the office and handed Booth a folder. "About that murder case...Stephanie Morrison? When she came to see you, she told you that domestic terrorism had worked with RICO to bust Robert Riggs, right?"

"That's what she said...the cyber intelligence team had been tracking the websites that Riggs had been visiting on the internet before he was arrested...they were mostly white supremacy sites." Booth put aside the folder he'd been reading and looked through the one that Aubrey handed him.

"Then I think there's something in there that might interest you. Have you ever heard of an organization called The Guardians of the Free World?"

Booth paused as he carefully looked through the file's contents. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

Aubrey grimaced in disgust. "They're a White Supremacist group in Nebraska and the Dakotas, ready to release Hell on anyone they view as unworthy to live. Nasty shit...they've got a website full of crap that'd make normal people sick. It's really terrible...filled with homophobic and racist rhetoric, and ideas about how to make America better by eliminating various minority groups. This group is proud of the fact that they are trying to achieve a country where the population is made up entirely of straight, white Anglo-Saxon Protestants, and they're not afraid employ any means necessary to get what they want, even to the point of spreading mayhem and plotting murders. They make the Nazis look like kindergarteners."

Booth looked over the file again. "This group operates in the same area Riggs was from? I guess that's not a coincidence, is it?"

"I don't think so, especially after seeing this." He handed Booth a picture. "That's Jeremy Harmon, the big dog of the outfit."

"Okay…" Booth nodded as he looked at the photograph of an unremarkable man in his thirties. He looked up at Aubrey and shrugged, unsure of what he was supposed to notice. "Looks like an average fella."

Aubrey grinned as he handed Booth a second photograph. "And this is a picture of Robert Riggs. What do you think?"

"They're the same guy!" Booth looked at Aubrey with surprise and then put the pictures next to each other on his desk. "Wow...this case keeps getting stranger and stranger…But how does that work...they can't be the same guy…."

Aubrey chuckled as he watched Booth examine the photographs. "I think they're probably identical twins. I'm trying to get a court order for the DNA information on both men so we can be sure. But there's more. Get this….Jeremy Harmon is in prison at Leavenworth for hate crimes. Riggs was in that same prison at the same time as Harmon."

Booth leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought things through for a minute. "So Riggs gets sent into the prison in some sort of undercover operation to get intel on his own brother? Someone in the Bureau probably promised Riggs a lot of money and a new identity for going into Leavenworth to spy on the guy …"

"And then maybe Harmon finds out his long lost brother is a rat. But the prison warden must've known what was going on. He'd have to be in on it to make sure Riggs didn't get killed for being a government informant."

"I tell you what we're going to do. Call your contact in Topeka, Aubrey. We need to get the field office out there to talk to the warden, any of the guards that may have had contact with these two guys, and the prison doctors. Maybe Riggs didn't die of natural causes. Maybe Harmon was the one who escaped and went to visit Lisa to see if he'd pass for Riggs….and maybe it was Harmon who died of the stroke."

Aubrey whistled softly. "Damn….this case is gonna turn out to be as complex as some of the stuff they have on those television detective shows."

Booth nodded. "Yeah...I just hope we can solve it as easily as they do on television….."

oooooooooo

Two weeks had dragged by with no leads on the Stephanie Morrison case. Lisa Riggs continued to be hospitalized in the intensive care ward, and her prognosis was still uncertain. So far, there had been no way to establish a definite link between the two women, and there were other cases to be investigated. Booth had finally cleared the backlog of files that needed to be amended, and the transfer of files to the cloud was going smoothly. "Too smoothly.", thought Booth. "Any day now, all hell will break loose…."

"What's going on, Booth?"

"Hey, Aubrey." Booth looked up from his computer as the younger man stood in the doorway. "Nothing much...just going over the stuff about the Stephanie Morrison case again. I think if it was a professional job, the guy who did it is long gone…"

"Yeah, you're probably right." Aubrey nodded to the computer monitor. "What're you watching? It sounds pretty intense."

Booth muted the sound on the computer. "Congressional hearings. Most of the time the hearings are really boring, but I try to listen when FBI topics come up. This one is sort of interesting, though. The head of the Domestic Terrorism unit is defending his expenditures and tactics to a subcommittee, and the committee members are grilling him pretty good."

Aubrey grimaced. "I'm not sure why that hearing would be more interesting than any of the other ones. They all seem pretty dry to me."

"It's not the actual hearing so much as who they're talking to. My feeling is that there's something off about the guy. His name is Michael O'Rourke. He rose quickly through the ranks of Domestic Terrorism to become Special Agent in Charge over there because his agents have good conviction rate..."

"As good as ours?" Aubrey interrupted. "We're right at the top, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but we don't go around crowing about how great we are. O'Rourke's a lot more vocal about what goes on in his department. He puts himself on display more, you know? It doesn't bother him to talk about himself and how great he is. The problem is that I think he uses questionable tactics. He's an 'anything necessary to win' kind of guy."

"Anything? What kind of anything?"

Booth nodded. "Borderline stuff, and maybe even some stuff that's completely over the line...so it made me think about things. If O'Rourke wanted to find out more about the leader of a white supremacist organization that looked like it might be involved in domestic terrorism, would he go as far as to plant an insider in the penitentiary where that guy was?"

Aubrey shrugged. "It's possible. I'd say it's worth looking into, right? Anyway, what I came to tell you was that the Kansas field office talked to the head warden at Leavenworth. He never sees the prisoners, and he doesn't know anything personal about them. He's strictly an administrative type. The guards rotate cell blocks every week so no one gets too chummy with the prisoners. Theoretically, it might be possible for two guys who look alike to be in the same area of the prison and no one in charge would be the wiser if they weren't seen together. I'm gonna call the prison to see if there's some associate warden I can talk to...someone who might really more about what's going on. I'll let you know what I find out."

"Thanks, Aubrey." As Aubrey left, Booth unmuted the computer, wondering how the Head of Domestic Terrorism had manipulated the system well enough to plant an informant in the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary.


	8. Chapter 8

Brennan cast an appreciative glance at her husband as he entered the kitchen for breakfast. He was impeccably dressed in his best dark gray suit. When combined with his French blue shirt and the gray tie with the thin blue stripes that perfectly matched the shirt color, it was even more striking. He was the very picture of sartorial splendor. Booth's suits were always expensive because they had to be tailored specifically for him, but as good as he looked in them, it was money well spent. Brennan knew that was the price she had to pay for her husband's impressive shoulder to hip ratio and broad chest, but in this case she knew it was definitely worth it. As a forensic anthropologist, she understood that her husband's outstanding skeletal structure and well defined musculature contributed to his exceptional physique. As a woman, she was quite pleased that her husband was an extremely attractive man. Smiling to herself as she watched him reading the morning paper, she made plans to make a closer inspection of his musculature later that evening.

"You look very handsome this morning, Booth. Is there some special occasion that you forgot to mention to me?"

He grinned at her as he peered over his paper. "Are you saying I don't normally look this handsome, Bones? I thought you said last night that I was an exceptionally sexy, good looking man."

She smiled as she buttered her toast, gesturing with the knife as she spoke. "That's true...you are an incredible physical specimen, and, from an anthropological standpoint, I am quite fortunate to have you as my mate. However, I find that this combination of the gray suit and blue shirt you're wearing this morning makes you even more attractive to me than normal. Of course, it could just be that I'm ovulating…"

Booth rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. "Ovulating, huh? Okay, then...that's good to know, I guess. Actually, I'm wearing my best suit because I have to go to the retirement reception for Director Harris this morning since I'm the Special Agent in Charge of Major Crimes. Jamison says I have to be a good boy and go be a nice bureaucrat at the party so I can be the next deputy director of the FBI."

"Deputy director? A promotion? Good for you, Booth." Brennan's brow furrowed when she saw her husband's slight grimace. "You seemed displeased, Booth. Don't you want to be a Deputy Director?"

He shrugged as he turned the page of his paper. "I don't know...I haven't really given it much thought. I've been busy. Oh, look at that. The Flyers beat the BlackHawks last night."

"I suppose that means you don't wish to discuss the promotion now." He nodded as he turned to the next page. "Isn't attending these social functions just part of your job as the head of a unit? A necessary evil..isn't that what you said?" Brennan frowned slightly. She wondered if Booth was still having doubts about Jamison. That might explain his obvious discomfort with discussing his current responsibilities and a possible promotion to deputy director.

Booth sighed as he folded his paper. "Yeah, I guess so, but I hate standing around with a bunch of stuffed shirts as they brag about how great they are at their jobs. I'd rather be out in the field, where I'm making a real difference in the world, but I don't have much choice in that today. I've got to show up at the reception and make nice with the big shots." Booth stepped around the kitchen counter to give his wife a kiss. "I'm going to work. Maybe we can continue our discussion of what a sexy man I am later this evening." He gave her a charm smile as he twitched his eyebrows at her.

"I'm looking forward to that…." Brennan kissed him and smiled as she watched him walk toward the door. Anticipation would definitely be heightening her sexual pleasure this evening.

oooooooooo

Booth grumbled to himself as he walked into the sunny atrium filled with various minor dignitaries. This was going to be one of those punch and cookie affairs...the kind of thing that no one really wants to attend, but a function that has to be attended because of who's going to be in attendance. One of the long time directors of the FBI was retiring after 35 years of service, and he was being feted with a reception. As head of Major Crimes, Booth had to make an appearance, and Deputy Director Jamison was counting on Booth making a good impression with the FBI brass.

Jamison had given him a condescending pat on the back. "You know what to do, Booth. Nod, smile, shake hands with all the old guys...that sort of thing. Chat with folks and pretend to listen to what they're saying. Make sure they know your name so you can move up to my spot when I become a Director."

Booth had made a point of smiling, nodding, shaking hands and being seen by the so-called important people in attendance for what seemed like a very long hour. He was finally turning to leave when someone called his name.

"Agent Booth! Do you have a minute?" The man who approached Booth was waving frantically while wearing a very large, very artificial smile. "I've been looking for you all morning! I'm glad I was able to catch you before you left. I'm Michael O'Rourke, Special Agent in Charge of the Domestic Terrorism unit. This is truly an honor, Agent Booth. I've heard so much about you and the fabulous work you do! You're a legend, you know...outstanding agent, outstanding marksman, outstanding investigator…"

"Yeah, well…" Booth hesitated slightly before acknowledging the man cautiously, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the overly enthusiastic greeting he'd just received. " _This guy is coming on way too strong…_ " Booth thought. _"He's a ass kisser if ever I saw one…"_

O'Rourke shook Booth's hand vigorously as if he had found a long lost friend. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Agent Booth. The Major Crimes division has set the standard of excellence for all the other departments at the Bureau. It's very impressive. Your leadership skills must be outstanding. Your unit has the highest case closure rate east of the Mississippi, and probably for the entire country. It's quite remarkable." The man continued to chatter effusively about Booth's many fine qualities as an FBI agent and the effectiveness of his unit, ignoring the fact that Booth hadn't had a chance to respond.

Feeling himself flush with embarrassment at the unexpected barrage of adulation from Agent O'Rourke, Booth attempted to end the conversation. "Thanks, but, you know...we're just doing our jobs over there, trying to catch the bad guys." Booth was expressionless, waiting to see where O'Rourke was going with the over-friendly compliments. His gut was nagging him...something wasn't right….this guy was way too anxious to be buddy-buddy. Booth realized that O'Rourke probably wanted something from him...

"Well, Booth, I was wondering if we could work together on some cases sometime...you know, a collaboration between Domestic Terrorism and Major Crimes. I bet we could really clean up the country, you know? We could be like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday." O'Rourke smiled broadly at his own joke. "I'm sure I could benefit from your experience, and you could benefit from my manpower."

Booth shook his head and apologized politely. "I'm sorry...I've got at least three ongoing murder investigations and an assault with deadly weapon case pending, so I can't really take on anything new right now. I also have some case reviews to complete before our files get transferred to the cloud." Booth decided to give into his gut instincts. "The victim in one of our murder cases was a former FBI employee from the cyber intelligence unit. Did you know Stephanie Morrison? I heard that she had done some computer surveillance for your Domestic Terrorism unit."

"No, I don't think I had the pleasure of meeting her. God, that's awful..." O'Rourke shuddered as he shook his head. "What happened?"

Booth felt sure there was a glimmer of recognition passing over O'Rourke's face even though he said he didn't know her. Time for some poking and prodding...

"She was shot...probably a professional job. We're still unsure of the motive, but there's been some speculation that it may be related to the computer surveillance case she was working on when she died." Booth watched as O'Rourke swallowed hard and avoided eye contact with him while shifting nervously from foot to foot. All of the fidgeting by O'Rourke meant one thing to Booth.

" _Gotcha"_ , thought Booth. _"You did know her, you scheming bastard."_ He continued carefully, not wanting to show all of his cards yet. "Agent O'Rourke, it seems your department is also doing very well in closing cases. You don't need my help right now, but maybe we can consult each other from time to time. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Booth tried to move past O'Rourke to get to the exit door of the atrium.

O'Rourke moved to stand in front of the door, blocking the way so that Booth wasn't able to leave. "You're married to Dr. Temperance Brennan, the author, aren't you?" Arching an eyebrow, O'Rourke wore a wolfish grin. "You're a lucky guy, Booth...your wife's a beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman, and you have two really cute kids. What are their names? Oh, yes...Parker and Christine. A word of advice...Take very good care of them…and please tread cautiously when dealing with the likes of Harmon and Riggs. Those men are unpredictable and extremely dangerous. Nice to meet you..." O'Rourke chuckled softly as he walked away.

Booth felt an uncontrollable shudder pass over himself, shocked as he considered what appeared to be a thinly veiled threat toward his family. How did O'Rourke know about their investigation of Harmon and Riggs? He hurriedly pulled out his phone and called Aubrey. "I need to see you right away….not the diner...yeah, O'Rourke!"

oooooooooo

"Booth, just calm down." Aubrey took a bite of his sandwich as they walked away from the food truck. "There's a logical explanation for O'Rourke knowing about our investigation. After all, he's head of Domestic Terrorism. Don't you send out emails to all the field offices across the country asking for information on cases? He probably sent one out that asked to be informed about inquiries into those guys. When I called the Topeka office to ask about them, someone probably sent him an email to let him know about it. I'm pretty sure that's all there is to it."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Booth sat on a bench and rubbed his eyes. "My imagination is probably working overtime, although it still bugs me that he mentioned Bones and my kids. The bastard warned me to take care of them. He sure knew how to push my buttons."

Aubrey shrugged his shoulders as he sat down next to Booth. "That part's a little creepy, but maybe the guy's just being a jerk...or maybe he was just trying to be nice."

Booth wadded up his sandwich wrapper and threw it away. He leaned back on the bench and glared at Aubrey. "There's not much nice about the guy. He was warning me off. He doesn't want me to do any more poking around into things related to those guys."

Glancing over at Booth, Aubrey grimaced as he gave him the bad news. "My contact in Topeka says all of the medical records on Robert Riggs, including his autopsy report and DNA information, were lost in a fire before they were completely uploaded to the computer server, so we can't compare any of the information to Harmon. Convenient, right?"

Booth sighed heavily. "Bones said DNA wouldn't be any help anyway if they were identical twins. Riggs' body was cremated so we can't do an exhumation to find out if he really died from a stroke. Someone went to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks in this case. Even if we figure out what happened with Riggs and Harmon in prison, it's going to be difficult to get proof enough to take it to court." Booth growled in frustration. "I don't like to leave cases open with all these loose ends, but I think we'd be better off to let that go for a while and concentrate on Stephanie Morrison. Any more news on her case?"

"Not really." Aubrey was clearly frustrated with the lack of information he had for Booth. "Just what we already knew. It seems all she did was work. She didn't have any family, and very few friends other than Hayes Flynn. She rarely traveled, and she had almost no outside interests."

"She must've gotten into some information on the internet that scared someone badly. Let's see if we can figure out what she was working on when she died. That might give us another place to look." Booth glanced at his watch and got up from the park bench. "I gotta get back to the office to finish up those files…"

"Okay, see you later." Aubrey checked the messages on his phone, and then turned back to Booth. "Listen...don't worry about O'Rourke, Booth. He's just trying to make some sort of an impression on you...you know, to prove that he's as good of an investigator as you are. You probably pissed him off when you said you didn't want to collaborate with him, and he's trying to bug you because of it."

"Right…." Booth blew out another sigh. "I hope that's all it is…but I've got a feeling that there's something more to it...and I really hope I'm wrong….


	9. Chapter 9

Booth was lost in thought as he and Brennan left the hospital where Lisa Riggs was recuperating. Lisa had been moved from the intensive care wing into a regular private room, but she still had a extended hospital stay ahead of her, and her long term prognosis was uncertain at best. He shook his head as he thought about what had happened to her. Things were going to be rough for her when she left the hospital…or maybe it'd be more realistic to say if she ever left the hospital. Mrs. Riggs was barely able to communicate enough to answer their questions, but Booth could tell from the look in her eyes that she was still extremely frightened, and it was hard to offer her any comfort until they knew for sure who had shot her and that he was in custody.

Booth checked the messages on his phone before starting the car. "Looks like we'd better head over to the diner, Bones. Aubrey wants to meet us there for lunch. I guess we can tell him what we found out here. Man, I didn't think we'd ever get done talking to Lisa in that hospital room. Jesus, I hate hospitals..." He grimaced as he started the car, and glanced at his wife. "She's still in pretty bad shape, isn't she? I guess she's in a lot of pain."

Brennan nodded as she checked her phone for messages. "Yes, I'm afraid so, and it's likely her convalescence will be quite lengthy. She may never fully recover from her injuries, but Mrs. Riggs is fortunate to have survived at all, Booth. If the bullet had penetrated her chest at a slightly different angle she would be deceased now instead of trying to recover. She was also fortunate that you and Aubrey arrived at her motel room when you did. Her physician said that your efforts to stop her blood loss from the wound are the reason she survived long enough to be transported to the emergency room. At least we were able to gather some information pertinent to the case from her this morning, although I don't suppose we know yet how reliable it is." Brennan sighed as she looked out the passenger window. "I'm not sure we were able to completely comprehend what she was trying to tell us, either."

"I don't know if I'd say Lisa Riggs was lucky, considering someone was trying to kill her." Booth shrugged a shoulder as he tried to deflect his wife's praise. "Anyway, Aubrey and I were just doing our jobs. All FBI agents get training in first aid, and we were able to use what we've learned." Booth looked in the rear view mirror before giving his wife another sideways glance. "Listen, Bones...I, um...I don't want our official report for the Bureau about Lisa Riggs' interview to go into a lot of detail, okay? It only needs to say that we talked to her to get a description of her attacker and about her husband a little bit, but we couldn't get a lot of information because she's still too weak to carry on much of a conversation."

Brennan stared at her husband, unable to hide her shock at his bizarre request. "Booth...if one of the deputy directors finds out you falsified a report it could lead to disciplinary action against you, or perhaps even removal from this case. I think it's a very poor idea..." She glared at him before turning to look out the passenger window again. "I'm somewhat disappointed in you for suggesting that we do a faulty report on our interview.", she said, obviously upset with him. "We have a responsibility to do our best work so that we can find Mrs. Riggs' attacker and arrest him."

Slightly exasperated at the misunderstanding, Booth gripped the steering wheel tightly as he rolled his eyes at Brennan. "We're not going to falsify a report, Bones. We're just going to be deliberately vague when we write it." Booth parked the SUV, explaining his thoughts with deliberate care in an effort to defuse her anger. "Considering everything that's going on right now, I'm not sure I want everyone to know that Lisa thought the guy who came to visit her before she traveled to DC wasn't her husband, but someone pretending to be Robert Riggs. She gave us a marginal description of the man who shot her, and I don't want someone on the wrong side of this case reading that information in a report and possibly alerting the suspect."

Brennan thought for a minute, considering what Booth had said. "Do you seriously think someone in the FBI is involved? Who could it be? It would have to be someone with a large amount of influence. It's hard to imagine that someone with that sort of authority would use their position to interfere with a criminal investigation."

"I'm not sure who it might be." Booth was grim as he pulled the keys from the car's ignition and turned toward Brennan. "I know it seems like I'm overly paranoid about this whole thing, but I don't want to take any chances. A vague report will possibly get me scolded by Jamison, but too many details could cause some major damage to our case. All I want is for us to be careful about what we say in the report, okay? We're not doing anything illegal...we're just being cautious. Alright? Please? " He reached over and patted her knee. "You know I wouldn't do anything that would jeopardize our case, Bones. We can turn in an amended report after we find out what's really going on."

After struggling with her conscience for a few seconds, Brennan finally nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. We can do whatever you think is best in this situation." She sighed as she turned to open the passenger side door. "Your reasoning is sound, and I understand your concern. I know you would never do anything to compromise our efforts to seek justice, Booth." Brennan got out and walked around the car, joining Booth as they waited to cross the street in front of the diner. "Oh, I forgot to tell you...you might find this interesting. The man who runs the Domestic Terrorism unit called me yesterday morning. He wanted…"

Booth interrupted brusquely. "Michael O'Rourke called you yesterday? Why?"

Brennan was surprised at Booth's irritation. "He wanted to know if I had time to look over some autopsy reports on some Salvadoran gang members. He had wondered if there was a common element in their deaths. However, I told him that looking over those sorts of reports were something Cam did, not me. He asked a few questions indicating that he was curious about what I did as a forensic anthropologist, and that was the end of it. It was a very short conversation."

"Jesus, Bones...with all that's going on, you didn't think to tell me until now?" Booth scowled at Brennan and spoke angrily as he looked at her in disbelief. "I mean, seriously...who knows what he's really after? I don't trust him at all. He might have been pumping you for information on this case and he just used the gang member autopsies as a means to get it from you."

"I think you're overreacting, Booth." Brennan smiled gently as she reached for her husband's hand. "He was just being polite. He said he knew of your outstanding work with the Major Crimes Division and he said that he admired your ability to read people so well. That's all. There didn't seem to be anything sinister about it." She tilted her head to the side, waiting patiently as she watched Booth fuss and fume over O'Rourke's phone call. "I know you're trying to protect me, but I'm not sure it was anything devious on his part. The FBI and the Jeffersonian work in conjunction with each other to solve all manner of crimes. As head of Domestic Terrorism, O'Rourke knows that. He just called the wrong department and then we chatted a bit after he apologized for any inconvenience he might have caused me. Okay?"

Booth drew in a deep breath to calm himself, slightly embarrassed by the way he'd scolded his wife. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just probably overreacting." He pulled her closer to him as they stood on the busy corner across the street from the diner. "It's been a really stressful case and I'm a little edgy. I'm sorry...I don't mean to be so grouchy, but I just can't seem to put all the pieces together in this one..."

"You'll figure it out, Booth. You always do. I have confidence in you." She beamed at him proudly as she put her arms around his neck.

"That's because I have you to help me." He smiled broadly as he leaned in to kiss her quickly before the light at the crosswalk changed. Chuckling after they sprinted across the street, he bumped her shoulder with his as he winked suggestively. "Let's write that really vague report about Mrs. Riggs later this evening...maybe after dinner. I have another idea about what we should investigate after lunch…."

"Hmm…", Brennan purred, as she kissed his cheek. "That sounds much more intriguing than writing a report…"

oooooooooo

"Hey, guys." Aubrey joined Booth and Brennan at their normal table in the diner and took the menu from the waitress. "How'd the interrogation go at the hospital this morning? Find out anything new from Mrs. Riggs?"

"It was quite tedious, Aubrey." Brennan sighed. "Mrs. Riggs isn't strong enough to say more than a few words at a time, and when combined with the reduced lung function she is experiencing due to her injuries, it was quite a struggle. She became so fatigued after just a few minutes of the interview that we finally had to limit ourselves to yes or no questions to get anything accomplished. It was difficult to ask the right questions to get the answers we needed."

Booth shook his head as he ate a bite of his sandwich. "It's amazing she's still alive. The doctor told us that since she's lasted this long, her chances have improved to fifty-fifty, but she's still not out of the woods."

"What did you find out?" Aubrey took a bite of his burger. "Did she know anything about a switch involving her husband and someone else?"

Booth gestured with his french fries as he shared the information with Aubrey. "She figured out that the guy who showed up at her house was definitely not her husband. It seems like Robert Riggs had no desire to escape from prison. He actually wanted to do his time and be paroled so he could go back to running his gambling and prostitution rings again. It seems Lisa has been running the show while her husband was inside...sort of a caretaker until he got home, I guess. Nobody from RICO seems to have paid much attention to what she was doing, which is strange, right? Anyway, Riggs was just biding his time until he had enough years under his belt to come home. Lisa also told us that the man that showed up at her house that evening looked just like Riggs, and he acted like he knew her...he knew a lot of obscure facts about her and their married life together, but she said he smelled different and talked funny...he had a slight accent or something...maybe a lisp? She said that when we found her, remember, Aubrey? It's weird she would comment on his body odor, isn't it?"

Brennan furrowed her brow as she thought about Booth's comment. "Women are normally more sensitive to odors than men, so it's possible she might've noticed if the man who came to her house had a different scent than the one she associates with her husband. Did either man have any tattoos or other distinguishing marks? Anything that can be used to tell them apart?" Brennan took a bite of salad. "White supremacists are often heavily tattooed."

"I don't know about Riggs, but there are no tattoos, piercings, or anything like that on Harmon." Aubrey shook his head as he started on his dessert. "Harmon was trying to look and act like a legitimate businessman….suit, tie, haircut, the whole bit. He even paid some federal taxes. Both of those guys were so clean cut they looked like they should be preaching somewhere."

Booth grimaced in disgust as he reached for his coffee. "Yeah, except that what those clowns are preaching about has nothing to do with God."

Brennan tapped her husband's hand. "We need to ask Mrs. Riggs if her husband had any distinguishing marks…" She reached over to steal some of his fries. "I'll go back to see her tomorrow morning. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes to gather that information." Booth nodded in agreement as he turned to Aubrey.

"What about Angela? Has she found out anything new about Stephanie Morrison's project for Domestic Terrorism?"

Aubrey scooped up a forkful of pie as he explained what he'd found out that morning. "Angela has been looking through some of the computer files from the cyber terrorism division. Guess what Stephanie Morrison was working on? Ms. Morrison was monitoring email and cyber traffic from the Guardians' White Supremacy websites, both incoming and outgoing. She was checking to see who visited their websites regularly to compare them to domestic terrorism watch lists."

Booth let out a low whistle. "So these two cases might really be connected after all? Wow….so you think Stephanie found out something about Jeremy Harmon?"

Aubrey nodded. "I know she found out something...the last thing Stephanie read on her computer at work was a blog on the Guardians' website bragging about the 'big dog' coming home early from the 'pound', thanks to 'help from his Uncle Sam'. You know what that means, right, Booth?"

"I don't know what that means." Brennan was confused.

Booth grimaced. "Stephanie was murdered because of what she read in that blog. Somehow she put together the information from the blog and the email traffic and figured out something about Jeremy Harmon's plans for getting out of prison early, even though he still had a lot of years on his sentence. She took her concerns about the information she'd found to someone in the Bureau, but whoever she told at the Bureau was afraid she'd talk about it, which would ruin the plan." Booth's hands clenched into fists as he looked at Brennan and then Aubrey. "Whoever she told at the Bureau was the person who ordered her murder. They decided to keep her quiet permanently."


	10. Chapter 10

Booth was working at his office computer, reading through the files on Stephanie Morrison, Lisa Riggs, Robert Riggs, and Jeremy Harmon one more time, trying to find the common thread between them. His instincts were telling him that he was close to a solution, but he was having a hard time making the final connection. Frustrated, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a few minutes, trying to decide what his next step should be. He accessed Lisa Riggs' file again, looking for the section pertaining to their last interview in her hospital room. Her description of the man who'd shot her was vague...it could probably match about half of the Caucasian men in the US. _You'd think she'd be able to describe him better,_ Booth thought, but then he realized the attacker must have surprised her. _I bet it all happened so quick...she didn't have time to think...she was so scared, just trying to survive..._

"Hey, Booth." Aubrey sauntered in and tossed a file on Booth's desk. "You're not gonna believe this one. My contact in Topeka says Jeremy Harmon's parole hearing has been put on the fast track."

"No way. How can someone committing hate crimes like the ones that son of a bitch was convicted on be fast tracked?" Booth was shocked as he picked up the file and looked through it, hoping to find out who had made that call. "Who the hell authorized that?"

"I think I've talked to about fifty different people today, trying to find out who's responsible for making that decision, but no one seems to know. Everyone's passing the buck. The head warden at Leavenworth got an email about the parole hearing from some nameless bureaucrat at the Department of Justice and then he notified everyone else involved. Harmon's hearing has been moved up to next month."

Booth rubbed his chin as he gazed out his office window. "If that guy is even Jeremy Harmon. I still think it's Robert Riggs in Harmon's cell right now."

"How would that work, Booth? That's just crazy. Who'd have the balls to pull that off?"

"It wouldn't be that hard if someone had access to a lot of money. Let's say that someone figures out that Robert Riggs and Jeremy Harmon are twins. Maybe they were separated at birth, or maybe they changed names so they couldn't be traced back to each other. How that happened isn't important, but how to use the information is. So someone offers a bribe to Riggs if he'll go inside to get information either to Harmon or from Harmon, but Harmon realizes he can use the situation to his own advantage. He convinces Riggs to trade places...maybe offers more a lot more money. The original plan was probably for Riggs to get paroled quickly so he could get out and collect his money and everybody would be happy, but two unforeseen things happen. First, Harmon double crosses Riggs. He pretends to be Riggs and escapes, but then he gets caught and is confined to solitary after he's returned to prison. Second, something causes Harmon to die while he's in solitary. It was probably natural causes, but I guess we'll never know what really happened. Lisa Riggs thought it was her husband who died in solitary, and after they release the remains she has him cremated and holds a funeral for him, and all that time her husband was really sitting in Harmon's cell, pretending to be a White Supremacist."

Aubrey wasn't convinced. "That's a great story, Booth, but the big question still is who has enough importance to be able to make all of those arrangements without having to answer a lot of questions? The person who pulled off the switch would have to be able to arrange for those guys to be able to move in and out of prison easily and to push for fast track paroles. I mean, how else could you explain that somehow all of their medical and dental records got lost or destroyed, and how someone was able to remove their fingerprints from the system? It's gotta be someone with a lot of power if he can manipulate all those things without being there being a lot of questions about what he's doing."

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It was probably someone in the Domestic Terrorism Unit, or possibly a Deputy Director. Maybe a Special Agent in Charge who's been given a blank check when it comes to cleaning up a big problem related to a perceived threat to the country's security. Someone with authority like that who could've been in contact with both Riggs and Harmon, and someone who could promise money and protection." Booth thought for a minute. "I'm going to ask Angela to do some snooping into emails in and out of Leavenworth. Prisoner email accounts are restricted but there may be internet traffic under the radar. Whoever is running this sideshow has probably found a way to get around the restriction. When Angela figures that out, it should give us a good idea of who's involved, and how widespread the corruption actually is."

Aubrey grimaced. "Is it really a good idea to take these guys on, Booth? They're not playing around. If they can pull off a project like this, they're not going to hesitate at anything to keep the plan in place, even if it means taking you out along the way."

"The person involved in this operation ordered Stephanie Morrison's murder." Booth shut down his computer as he got ready to leave for the day. "She was an innocent person who just happened to do me a favor, and she may have paid for her kindness toward me with her life. I can't let whoever did this to her get away with it. We've got to find him, Aubrey, and put him away for good."

Oooooooooo

Michael O'Rourke whistled a cheerful little tune as he walked into his office. His plan was coming together well, and he was pleased that no one seemed to be the wiser. Things were looking up, and he might just be able to tidy up all the little details and be done with this project within the month...and then he'd move up to take over Jamison's spot, snatching it right out from under Seeley Booth's nose. _Special Agent Booth won't be so special then, will he?_ He grinned as he thought about Booth's reaction. _Too bad Booth's such an honest fella, but nice guys finish last, right? It's also too bad that Booth doesn't promote himself more. That's what it takes to get ahead in this world. Oh well...his loss is my gain._ O'Rourke chuckled to himself as he thought of the expression on Booth's face when his long promised promotion was given to someone else. _I can't wait to move into Jamison's office and be Booth's boss_. _I'll make his life miserable...I'll think up all sorts of hoops for him to jump through...stupid shit, just to make him mad...endless piles of meaningless forms for him to fill out..._ Yes, it was going to be a good day, and things were going to be just fine. However, he wasn't planning on the unpleasant surprise that awaited him in his office that morning.

O'Rourke tried to hide the shock he felt as he recognized his visitor. "Special Agent Booth! What can I do for you this fine morning?" O'Rourke glanced at the head of Major Crimes furtively as he sat down behind his desk. _Goddammit. What is he doing here? Why couldn't he just leave things alone? I don't have time for this shit…._ Booth was the last person O'Rourke wanted to see in his office right now.

Booth smirked as he chuckled about O'Rourke's obvious discomfort over his visit. "It's what I can do for you, Special Agent O'Rourke." Leaning forward in his chair, Booth gave O'Rourke an unpleasant smile. "Actually, I've come to do you a big favor this morning. I came to tell you that you need to change your plans for Jeremy Harmon and the Guardians, because, unfortunately for you and your friends in that organization, Jeremy Harmon is dead."

O'Rourke couldn't hide his shock. "I don't believe you. Harmon's sitting in a jail cell in Leavenworth right now…I can prove it…I just talked to my contact..." He stopped in mid-sentence and turned away from Booth, trying not to incriminate himself any further, but the damage had already been done.

"Nope. Sorry. That's Robert Riggs in the jail cell." Booth shrugged, trying to hide his smile at the irony of the situation. "Riggs and Harmon switched places so Harmon could escape from prison. Harmon was going to double cross you, but he got caught and he was returned to prison, where he died in solitary confinement."

"How could you possibly know all this?" O'Rourke spluttered. "Don't drag me into all of your crazy ideas about FBI conspiracies, Booth. I know you've had issues with the guys in charge over the past few months, and I don't want any part of that shit." O'Rourke turned toward his computer monitor, trying to ignore the stern gaze of his visitor. "Now if you don't mind, some of us have work to do other than spreading rumors about our co workers…"

Booth laughed out loud as he leaned back in his chair, watching O'Rourke's reaction to the news that Harmon was dead. "Riggs' wife, Lisa, told us about a distinctive scar her husband has on his ass...seems he had a nasty confrontation with a barbed wire fence when he was a teenager. He also has a hidden tattoo of a small snake under his right arm. The head warden and the prison doctor confirmed that they found both of those identifying marks on the man in Harmon's cell. Not only that, but the guy claims he's really Riggs. He says he's got a copy of his dental records stashed away in a safety deposit box in Omaha to prove it." Booth flashed a cocky grin. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mikey. It sucks that the guy you counted on up and died on you, ruining all your big plans, but that's the breaks, right?"

O'Rourke composed himself slightly before he spoke again. "Why are you telling me this, Booth? I don't know anything about any plans. I really don't have any idea what you're talking about. What did you say the dead man's name was? Jimmy Herman?"

Booth casually checked out his fingernails as he shook his head. "It's not gonna work this time, O'Rourke. I know what's really going on, and I've already begun an investigation into your involvement in the whole affair. I have a computer expert sifting through all emails between your office and the prison library in Leavenworth. Good thing she works for me, unlike poor Stephanie Morrison. Stephanie got too close to the truth, didn't she? Did you order the hit on Stephanie when she found your emails to Harmon? Was it one of the Guardians who actually pulled the trigger?"

"You have no proof of anything pertaining to my dealings with the Guardians." The strident tone of O'Rourke's voice told Booth that the head of Domestic Terrorism was beginning to panic. "This is all speculation...you know that, right? No one's going to believe I had anything to do with this so called plan that you're talking about. It's pure fantasy since you have no proof to back it up. You're just pissing in the wind, Booth."

"Yeah, you're probably right, Mikey, except for one little thing...Harmon was a big time blowhard. I guess the guy just couldn't shut up. He bragged to Riggs and a couple of other guys on his cell block about the big shot with FBI Domestic Terrorism that was going to spring him from jail early, and all on the government's dime. He mentioned your name to them, O'Rourke. Those guys are all prepared to testify about what Harmon said, and it'll lead right back to you. After Harmon got out, he was going to take back the leadership of The Guardians, and with your help, they were going to become like vigilantes, weren't they? The plan was that they'd destroy some of the smaller white supremacist organizations with FBI assistance, or at least with the FBI looking the other way, while consolidating power for themselves. Almost clever, isn't it? And no one would be the wiser. It would look like those anarchist gangs were being brought under control by the Domestic Terrorism unit, and you'd gain a directorship out of the deal. One hand washing another..."

 _How did Booth figure all of it out? Jesus...Riggs must have told someone what he knew...holy shit..._ O'Rourke saw that Booth wasn't going to back down, so he tried a different tactic. He began to try to appease Booth, using his best smarmy voice. "Actually, it's a great plan, Booth, and it can be very lucrative for both of us. I bet the Guardians can come up with at least two hundred grand a year to keep someone like you on our side. I'm sure the Guardians would be willing to pay a great deal of money to engage the services of the Special Agent in charge of Major Crimes in the DC office...a big chunk of change, Booth. All you'd have to do is look the other way from time to time while the Guardians were doing business, and no one would ever know you were involved. We would practically rule the country, Booth...we'd truly be Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, cleaning up the White Supremacy organizations and our collaboration would pay off big time. There'd be more money than you could ever need...promotions...maybe even appointments to some cushy cabinet positions..."

Booth rose from his chair and stood over O'Rourke's desk scowling down on the head of Domestic Terrorism, who was now cowering behind his computer monitor. "There's not enough money in the world to make me want to work with a filthy piece of shit like you...you make me sick, O'Rourke. The Guardians are disgusting. I don't see how any human being can stand to be associated with them." Booth glared at O'Rourke for a few seconds before turning to leave. "It's only a matter of time before I have enough proof to tie you to those bastards. I'll be in touch…"

O'Rourke was desperate. Everything he had worked for over the last three years was about to collapse around him. He decided to play on Booth's protective nature. "If you go public with this information, Booth, you'll put yourself and your family in danger. The Guardians as a group have no conscience. They are willing to do literally anything to maintain their power, including murder, and they won't hesitate to harm your wife and children in order to stay on top. You'll be powerless to stop them. You can fight against them all you want, but you can't beat them. If you love your family, you know what you have to do to protect them. Look at what happened to Stephanie Morrison."

Booth squared his shoulders as he looked O'Rourke in the eye. "Maybe you're right, Mikey. Maybe they will come after us, but I'll be ready for them. It'll be a lot worse for you and your family." Booth shrugged as he turned to leave. "The Guardians will think you spilled your guts to me and they'll be pretty sure ratted out the hit man who took out Stephanie. They'll be after you for the rest of your life. You're gonna always have to look over shoulder. You'll never be able to rest again. Good luck with that. You're gonna need it."


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't understand, Booth." Brennan shook her head as she turned down the comforter and sheets on their bed late that evening. "Why did you tell O'Rourke that you know that he's been engaged in criminal activities instead of just arresting him? Why would you want to share your cards with him?" She stood in the bathroom doorway with her hands on her hips as she watched her husband brush his teeth, slightly irritated at what she considered to be a very large mistake. "Won't that give him an advantage? He might try to leave the DC vicinity in order to evade capture."

Booth grinned as he rinsed out his toothbrush. "It's 'show your hand', Bones, okay? And to use another card playing term, I wanted to 'force his hand'. I wanted to see what his reaction would be to my allegations about his involvement in this situation, and I want to see what he's gonna do next. I'm gonna increase the pressure on him as much as I can. The way he reacted during our little meeting this morning told me he knew he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was really squirming, trying to figure out how to get out of the mess, and he's gonna find out real quick that I mean business."

Brennan turned and sat down on the bed, leaning back against her pillows, her brow furrowed as she tried comprehend Booth's reasoning. "I'm still unsure of what you were trying to accomplish. Were you trying to force him to confess? Is this one of your gut instinct ideas? Allowing him to escape seems irresponsible."

"Maybe it seems strange, but I really do have a plan. See, if he really was innocent, he would've had a lot more righteous indignation. I think he'd be really angry...he'd deny it heatedly, because that sort of allegation could permanently damage his career with the FBI. He might even have called security to have me escorted out of his office, and I'd deserve it." Booth turned off the faucet and dried his hands. "As it was, he was caught off guard, and he couldn't hide his surprise when I told him that Jeremy Harmon had died. He tried to deny his involvement with the Guardians and any sort of plan at first, but then quickly changed tactics and offered me a bribe to look the other way when he saw that I had figured out his plan. He didn't even try to hide the bribe as some sort of government deal. He just offered me two hundred thousand dollars...cash money, plain as day. He's desperate and scared. He must have somebody putting tons of pressure on him to make sure this switcheroo plan works." Booth got into bed and wrapped his arms around his wife. "Don't forget...your husband is a very successful Special Agent who knows what he's doing. The guy might try to run, but he won't get very far, and he sure as hell can't hide. I've arranged for around the clock surveillance on him. Michael O'Rourke won't even be able to take a piss in this town tonight without someone knowing about it."

Giggling, Brennan cuddled up against her husband's broad, muscular chest, using her index finger to trace circles on his firm abdominal muscles. "So now what happens?"

Booth chuckled as he gently kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck. "Now we make love…"

Brennan rolled her eyes as she playfully elbowed her amorous husband. "I mean with O'Rourke, Booth. What happens with him? Don't you think he'll know he's being watched? So what happens next?"

"How about I tell you later…" Booth nibbled at Brennan's ear. "I'm not really worried about Mikey right now…"

"Booth!" Brennan chuckled as she jabbed him in the ribs. "Tell me…"

"Oh, okay!" He sighed as he propped his head up on his bent arm, using his other hand to caress Brennan gently. "So now we see where he goes this evening. Maybe he'll try to go meet someone that he's in cahoots with, or maybe he'll try to leave town. Either way, the surveillance team will watch him, and eventually he'll make a mistake." He smiled as he bent down to give Brennan a kiss. "We've sent alerts to the airports, the bus stations, and the train stations, so if he tries to leave town in one of those ways, we'll be notified, and if he tries to leave by car, an agent will follow him for awhile before notifying the State Police that he needs to be held for questioning. One way or the other, he'll be arrested, probably for trying to bribe a federal law enforcement officer, and brought back to the Hoover. We're just trying to see if he goes to talk to someone tonight, so we can arrest any of his accomplices as well. Is that a satisfactory explanation, or do you need more information?" Booth winked at Brennan as he gave her a charm smile. "Anything else you need to know before we move on to the business at hand?"

Brennan nodded primly as she embraced her husband and ran her hands down his back to his buttocks. "Yes, there is something else I want to know."

He sighed and rolled his eyes in an overly dramatic way as he turned over onto his back. "What is it?"

Giggling again, Brennan straddled her husband's waist and leaned down to kiss him. "Are you finished talking? Because I think it's time for action…"

0000000000

Caroline Julian stood in the small room where the techs recorded interrogations. She stared at the man on the other side of the glass before she turned to Booth. "He's a smart man, Cherie. It's gonna be hard to get him to crack like we need him to..."

"Maybe…" Booth nodded grimly as he looked through the folder in his hands. "I think I've got an idea on how to get him to talk. I'm going to share some of my personal experiences with him."

"You just make sure you keep your anger under control in there. I know he's a dirty cop, but you gotta stay professional so we don't damage our case." Caroline patted Booth on the shoulder. "I know you know that…"

"Yeah. If I start to get out of control, come get me okay? Here I go…" Booth left the observation room and went to start the interrogation.

"Come to gloat, Booth?" Michael O'Rourke was waiting in the interrogation room when Booth arrived. "This is the part where the Special Agent tells the suspect what the evidence is, right?"

"Not really. I figure I'll have time to do that at your trial." Booth tossed a folder on the table and sat down opposite of O'Rourke. "You've been arrested on charges of attempting to bribe a federal law enforcement officer. I filed that complaint against you myself." Booth pulled a sheet from the file. "It looks like the locals also got you for littering on national park land...an officer saw you throw some objects into the Potomac River down by the Jefferson Memorial last night." Booth sat back in his chair and pushed the file to one side. "Look...you know we've got what we need to put you away. Why not save us some time and tell me what else I need to know? Tell me about Lisa Riggs."

"You know most of it...I shot Lisa Riggs because she figured out it was Jeremy Harmon who'd escaped and came to her house instead of her husband. She was going to screw up the whole plan. That plan took three years to put together, but she said she didn't give a damn. All she wanted was her husband back home. I tried to convince her to help me...tried to make it worth her while...but when she wouldn't cooperate, I didn't have a choice...I had to shut her up. Too bad I wasn't successful." O'Rourke leaned across the table towards Booth. "However, your evidence linking me to a conspiracy with the Guardians in relation to me shooting Lisa is mostly circumstantial, anyway, Booth. I may not have to go to federal prison, after all." O'Rourke laughed as he explained his plans. "I'll just do a few years at the Virginia State Penitentiary for the attempted murder of Mrs. Riggs and then, since I'll be a model prisoner, I'll get out early on good behavior. Then maybe I can write a book about the whole thing, just like your sweet wife, and make a couple million dollars from the whole affair."

Booth shrugged as he looked through the file that was spread out over the table. "You might be okay at the State Pen until they find out you're a cop. When that happens you'll find it isn't that easy. There's nowhere to hide in prison. It was Hell on me when I was inside. My ribs still ache sometimes. I'm lucky I got out when I did, or I probably would have died in there." He pulled some pages out of the folder. "As far as circumstantial evidence goes, I think you've been misinformed. The FBI office in Lincoln, Nebraska used the information we had acquired about Jeremy Harmon as probable cause to get a search warrant. They raided the Guardian headquarters in Seward, Nebraska, yesterday afternoon and found your name on all sorts of incriminating paperwork. For a bunch of thugs, the Guardians keep really good records. They kept track of when and how much they paid you, when their contacts met with you here in DC, and you were mentioned in several emails between members of their organization as well. They even mentioned you in the minutes of some of the meetings they had...about how the plan for the switch was supposed to work. The Lincoln office confiscated several large boxes full of stuff like that. They're also going to analyze all the information on the computers from the offices. You know, just because something is deleted from a computer, it doesn't mean it can't be found again..." Booth leaned back in his chair, and smiled faintly. "I think the local charge of attempted murder against Lisa Riggs, and my complaint about bribing a federal agent may be dropped in favor of charges related to conspiring against the federal government to commit acts of terrorism and misappropriation of government funds. I think you're gonna spend several years in Leavenworth along with a lot of the fellas from the Guardians organization that the FBI's gonna be able to put away now that we have all of this evidence. That'll be fun, won't it? Partying with your anarchy boys?" Booth pretended to smile as he closed the folder. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stay there at the penitentiary, although it may be cut short by some angry skinheads…" He stood up and moved toward the door as if to leave.

"Booth...wait." O'Rourke spoke nervously as his fingers drummed the table. "Maybe...do you think...is there any way we can maybe make a deal? Maybe I can give you some more information in exchange for going to a different federal prison? Please? I've got information that can help you take those guys down. You need me alive. Maybe I can turn state's evidence for you. It would make your case easier to close…."

Booth walked back to the table and looked down at O'Rourke in disgust before he sat down at the table again. "I can't promise anything, but I guess I can ask Ms. Julian. So, to begin with, did you approach the Guardians with the plan for switching Jeremy Harmon or did they approach you?"

O'Rourke sighed as he twisted his hands together, and he began to perspire profusely. All pretense of bravery was gone. "They approached me with a proposition when I was named the Special Agent in Charge. White Supremacy groups are mushrooming up all over the country, fighting for resources and membership. The Guardians wanted to work on making the smaller groups to disband, or maybe even disappear, in exchange for federal grant money and other forms of government support, and in order to be able to accomplish that work, they wanted me to get Jeremy Harmon out of prison. He was Mr. Personality...he was such a persuasive speaker that he could get people to do almost anything he wanted, and the Guardian leadership figured he'd be able to convince the smaller groups to join up with Guardians or face the consequences of being put out of business permanently. It would be any easy take over...a bloodless coup."

"Other forms of support...you mean like weapons?"

"Occasionally weapons, but more often it involved getting regulators and bureaucrats to look the other way when they wanted something done. Stuff like gun licenses being pushed through quickly without a background check, grants and small business loans being made without the appropriate paperwork, or tax breaks being handed out when they weren't deserved."

"And you had the guts to pull all of this off from your position in charge of Domestic Terrorism? Jesus. Were you that desperate to become an FBI director, Mikey? Was it worth it?"

"I thought it was going to be worth it at the time. All I had to do was convince the federal subcommittee that our government was in terrible danger from some of the smaller supremacy groups...explain that they were advocating anarchy and threatening the fabric of our society. It was an easy sell, and it seemed like an easy way to get a handle on the problem. I even had some of the Guardians' representatives testify at the hearings. They all seem like normal, rational businessmen when they offered their services to the government. When I found out how terrible they really were, it was too late to back out. They threatened to blackmail me...that's why my name is all over their paperwork, and they'd also threatened my family. I was in too deep, and it was too late to back out."

"How did the switch work?" Booth crossed his arms over his chest. "Did the Guardians tell you about Robert Riggs?"

"No, that was my idea. I needed to get Harmon out of prison somehow, but with his record, it was going to be difficult. I have a friend who works in the Fargo, North Dakota, office. We were talking on the phone over Christmas a couple of years ago and he was telling me about this guy Robert Riggs, who looked and acted like a preacher and how he's been arrested for running prostitution and racketeering operations all through the Dakotas and Nebraska. I didn't believe him, so he sent me a picture of the guy in an email. I'll be damned if he didn't look just like Jeremy Harmon. The guys were identical twins. Riggs had changed his name to make running his own business easier, because he didn't want to be linked to a notorious white supremacist leader. He was being held in Fargo, awaiting trial, so I went to see him, and explained what I wanted him to do, in exchange for some very tempting financial considerations. He'd go to Leavenworth and trade places with his brother. Jeremy would get out on parole in a few months, and then Robert a few months later, after we fast tracked the parole. I made all the arrangements…"

"What about Stephanie Morrison, Mikey? How did she get dragged into this?"

"I asked Riggs to start reading up on the Guardians by following their website. I wanted him to be familiar with what the Guardians were doing and what they believed in when he switched places with his brother to make it more believable to people who talked to him. I didn't know Stephanie Morrison had Robert Riggs on her list to follow in the cyber terrorism department. She learned about the Guardians and the plan accidentally when she was checking up on Riggs. I tried to get her to back off, but she wouldn't...she said she had to fight for what was right."

"And your plan would've worked except Jeremy Harmon wasn't patient enough to wait a few months, so he tried to escape."

"Yeah." O'Rourke buried his face in his hands. "It would have been so easy if he had just waited a few months...He wanted too much too quickly. He was sure he could pass for his brother, so he convinced his brother to switch identities with him. As it turned out, he couldn't even convince Riggs' wife. I think she turned him in and that's why he was recaptured."

"Did you arrange to have Harmon murdered in solitary?"

"If he was murdered, the Guardians did it, not me…maybe they were angry that he blew the plan."

"Taking the easy way out usually causes lots of damage, doesn't it? Answer one more question for me, O'Rourke. Who shot Stephanie Morrison?"

"Why are you so worried about Stephanie's killer? You better drop that line of inquiry. The Guardians won't like it." O'Rourke was shaking with fright. "You don't want to mess with those guys, Booth...they've got hired goons everywhere, and they won't have a second thought about taking you out…"

"I can't drop it. I owe Stephanie a lot...she put herself in danger to help me." Booth stood up to leave. "When the Guardians killed Stephanie Morrison, they made two big mistakes. They killed an innocent woman who was just doing her job, and they also made me very angry. You can tell them I won't give up until I get the truth, and I won't rest until I find them. Tell them I'll be coming after them soon."


	12. Chapter 12

Feeling slightly anxious, Brennan checked the time on her phone again, and then looked out the picture window of the diner, hoping to see that Booth was sprinting across the street. She was sure they had decided to have lunch together at the diner today. It wasn't like her husband to be this late without giving her a call. She had been waiting approximately fifteen minutes when Booth finally showed up for lunch. He appeared to be agitated as he sat down and signaled the waitress to bring him a menu and some coffee.

"Sorry I'm late." He tried to smile as he slid into his chair across from Brennan and then he slumped a bit, obviously annoyed by something. "I had what I thought was a good lead on the hit man that killed Stephanie Morrison and I wanted to follow it up before the trail went cold." He shook his head. "But it was just another dead end. The guy must be some kind of ghost." Booth ignored his wife's eye roll at his comment. He was much too annoyed with the situation to debate the existence of ghosts at that exact moment. "It's like he just melted away...like maybe he never existed in the first place. Dammit! Too much time has gone by since he was in town, and the chances of us finding him and bringing him in are practically nonexistent now. The son of a bitch might just get away with killing Stephanie if we don't find something soon. I'm running out of leads." He pounded his fist on the table, rattling the dishes and startling the diners seated near them.

Brennan nodded as she sympathized with her husband. "I know that must be very frustrating, Booth, but at least we know who shot Lisa Riggs. That case is closed, correct? One part of the puzzle has been solved."

"Yeah...I guess you're right." Booth nodded, smiling faintly as she ate some of his fries. "Get this...O'Rourke thought if he used his personal gun to shoot Lisa and then dumped it in the Potomac we wouldn't be able to trace it back to him because he filed off the serial number. Stupid, right? Hodgins had a team checking every inch of the river bottom where the police officer saw O'Rourke throw something in the river, and they finally found the gun late yesterday afternoon. The squints treated it with muriatic acid, like you did with that gun in West Virginia when we were taking care of Andy, remember? Anyway, it's registered to O'Rourke...the idiot used his own registered hand gun instead of a Saturday night special. The ballistics department matched the bullet they removed from Lisa to his gun. O'Rourke's spilling it, telling us everything he knows now, hoping he won't get sent to Leavenworth." Booth paused and took a bite of his burger. "He wouldn't last very long there, especially if some of the Guardians end up in there with him, even if they're on different cell blocks. Those guys are really dangerous, and they wouldn't let the fact that O'Rourke's on a different cell block stand in their way if they wanted to end him. He's asking to be assigned to the federal prison in Atlanta in exchange for cooperation and giving up information on the Guardians. Caroline said she thought that would be a good plan, since they may need him alive to testify against some of the really bad guys. As it is, he's still gonna have a hard time wherever he's locked up, seeing how he's gonna be a former federal cop in a federal prison, and a dirty one at that."

"So it appears that Deputy Director Jamison had nothing to do with either crime, correct?", Brennan asked, smiling as she stole some more of Booth's fries. "All this time you suspected him of being crooked, and he had nothing to do with it, did he?"

"Nope." Booth grinned at his wife's 'I told you so' look. "Okay, you were right...Jamison may be a jackass, but he had nothing to do with any of this Guardian shit. It was all Mikey's doing. O'Rourke had asked Jamison to check on what Stephanie Morrison was working on in Cyber Terrorism as a personal favor. Jamison had no idea why, and of course, he didn't bother to ask about it, but he didn't see any harm in it. He was just trying to be helpful for a change. In fact, Jamison was really shocked and upset when he found out that Stephanie had been murdered, especially when we figured out it was a professional hit. I guess maybe he began to wonder about the connection between her and O'Rourke. Jamison told me this morning that O'Rourke was the guy who got Stephanie fired. It seems Michael wanted to transfer her to another division to get her out of the way, but she refused because of the case she was working on at the time, which happened to be the connection between Robert Riggs and the Guardian stuff." Booth took a sip of his coffee and sighed sadly. "Unfortunately, her dedication to her work was what got her killed..."

"I'm glad Lisa Riggs was finally able to tell us about the scar on her husband's gluteus maximus and his tattoo so her husband could be positively identified. I'm also glad he had his own set of dental records hidden in a safety deposit box, since O'Rourke had purged so many of his records. The dental records that were in the safety deposit box confirmed that the prisoner in Harmon's cell at Leavenworth is definitely Robert Riggs."

"Well, that's the name he uses now. He used to be named Scott Harmon about six years ago, before he met his wife. He didn't want to have the same last name of his brother because of his brother's reputation as a racist. That change of name was why Lisa didn't know her husband had a twin. Riggs never mentioned having a brother to her." Booth chuckled at the irony. "Riggs is a pimp, a gambler, a thief, and a loan shark, but he doesn't want to be labeled as a white Supremacist because it would hurt his business reputation. He and his wife will be given new names by the Witness Protection program when she gets out of the hospital and he gets out of Leavenworth in a few weeks. Robert and Lisa Riggs will disappear, and most likely they'll try to set up the same sort of illegal operation in some other state." Booth ate some of his french fries and watched the traffic go by on the street outside. "Man...imagine what it must have been like for Riggs. He goes into Leavenworth to trade places with his brother, who double crosses him and escapes. Everybody, including his wife, thinks he's dead, and the whole time he's been sitting in someone else's jail cell doing doing someone else's time for hate crimes, not knowing when or even if he's gonna get out. I guess that's what they mean when they say crime doesn't pay, right?"

"Did O'Rourke say how Jeremy Harmon was able to escape from Leavenworth, Booth? That's a maximum security prison, isn't it?" Brennan stole another french fry as she tried to work through the problem. "He must've had some help…"

Booth nodded in agreement. "It looks like the Guardians had someone working in the prison warden's office who started looking through the personnel files they have on the guards at the prison. She probably picked out a few guys that she thought might be willing to 'help', and then made the pitch to them, testing to see which ones would be willing to take a bribe to help Harmon get out of jail. I guess she found some takers, because somehow Harmon was assigned to a work detail doing a roadside cleanup, and the guys on duty guarding the detail let him just walk away from it. There were three prison guards who had an extra ten thousand dollars show up in their bank accounts without any logical explanation a week after Harmon escaped. There's no way that's a coincidence. The field office in Topeka is going to check into the background and financial circumstances of the warden, the assistant wardens, the prison doctors, parole officers and anyone else they can think of to see if there were any irregularities there. It would be hard for three low level prison guards to help Harmon escape without some help from someone higher up on the food chain. Right now we don't know who it is, but they'll be able to figure it out eventually, and there'll be hell to pay for whoever it was. Assisting a prisoner escape from a federal penitentiary can get someone several years in jail. "

Brennan took a bite of her sandwich, thinking things through. She hesitated, hoping she sounded brave as she asked her next question. "Do you think we need to worry about the hit man coming after us, Booth? He must know by now that he's a wanted man...he would want to go to great lengths to prevent you from finding him. Are you sure that it was O'Rourke that hired the hit man, and not someone else here in DC?" She tried not to act frightened, but she was still nervous about the possibility that the assassin was still at large in DC.

Booth shook his head, trying to find the right words to comfort his wife. Reaching across the table to hold her hand, he shook his head as he calmly explained his take on the situation. "I don't know if O'Rourke personally hired the guy, but I'm positive that guy is not going to come after us or our family, Bones. The guy's a professional, and he just does the job assigned to him and nothing else. He only gets paid for the hit that he's been hired to do, and I'm sure he doesn't do freelance stuff just for fun, because it would make him vulnerable if he didn't follow the specific plan that was laid out for him. The people who hire him trust him to be detail oriented and meticulous, without any sort of hidden agenda, so he won't be caught in a compromising position and expose everyone involved in the plan to being arrested for conspiracy to commit murder. When he's done the job, he packs up his stuff and goes home, probably to his wife and kids." He saw the horrified look on Brennan's face. "I know that sounds cold hearted, but as you know, I understand how he thinks, Bones. He's a sniper, just like me, and he thinks of a making a hit on someone as just doing his job." Booth grimaced as he shifted in his seat. "I have to find him, of course, but it's not as urgent as it might seem to be...it's not him versus us...not like it was with Broadsky. I don't think he has any reason to be looking for us right now. My guess is that he's long gone...he probably left town right after Stephanie was killed. That's one thing O'Rourke won't tell us: who the hit man was, and exactly who hired the guy. He won't give us a name because he doesn't want to risk having a hit put on himself. But I'm gonna keep looking for the bastard." He rubbed a knuckle across his eye, wiping a tear away. "I have to find him, for Stephanie's sake, and maybe a little bit in memory of Hayes Flynn."

"I know." Brennan put her hand over his, patting it gently. "However, I do find that I disagree with you about one thing…"

"Oh, really…" Booth smirked as he watched her primly sip her coffee. "What do you disagree with…I think I've explained it very succinctly."

"Succinctly? Good word choice, Booth." She smiled as she watched him eat a bite of his sandwich. "The work the hit man does is nothing like what you did as a sniper. You are an honorable man, Booth, unlike our murderer." Brennan gazed at her husband lovingly. "I know you feel compelled to find this man, but I feel that I need to remind you to be very careful. Remember, you are not allowed to die…"

He grinned at her as she stole more of his french fries. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. I love you, too, Bones…"

Oooooooooo

Brennan checked on Christine before joining her husband in the living room. "Are you okay, Booth? You seemed quiet during dinner tonight."

Booth looked up from his puzzle and gave his wife a small smile. "I'm fine, Bones. I've just been thinking about the Morrison case again. I'm sorry...I didn't mean to bring it home with me, but it's bugging me, you know?"

"Have there been new developments?" Brennan handed Booth a Scotch as she sat down next to him on the sofa.

"No, nothing. We're not any closer to finding the guy. When the Lincoln Field Office served the warrant on the Guardian Headquarters, they confiscated all sorts of unlicensed guns: handguns, high powered rifles, shotguns...stuff like that. The problem is that even if we do manage to find the murder weapon in the group of guns that was taken from them, we can't actually tie it to any specific person in order to charge them with murder." Booth took a sip of Scotch and sank back into the sofa. "I've resigned myself to the fact that we'll probably never get Stephanie Morrison's killer. He basically could be anywhere in the US right now. It's one of those needle in a haystack situations, and it's really annoying." He reached over and put his arm around his wife, pulling her close enough to give her a kiss. "We'll start looking again tomorrow, I guess."

"I'm sorry, Booth. I know how badly you want to find the person responsible for Stephanie's murder." She patted his knee as she sipped her wine. "Is there anywhere left to look?"

He shook his head as he drained his glass. "Nah. I guess it's a lost cause unless O'Rourke caves and gives us the guy's name, because we really have nothing else to go on. The members of the Guardians have closed ranks and we won't be able to get a name from them, either. We don't have any way to force them to talk, and they're too scared to rat on someone, because they know the guy could come after them next."

"Did the Lincoln Field Office check the weapons for fingerprints and DNA evidence?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah, of course. That's standard procedure. They just didn't find anything a prosecutor could use. Something about the DNA samples being too degraded? I don't know if they even tested all of the guns, but I doubt it. I imagine they just tested the ones that might be similar to the type used to shoot Stephanie."

Brennan thought about the situation for a minute. "I'll talk to Hodgins tomorrow to see if he has any suggestions. If he can think of more tests to run on the firearms, would it be possible to have them shipped to the Jeffersonian for him to work on?"

"The weapons were seized by the government, so if there's another test to run, you ought to be able to have them brought to the lab to run more tests. If Hodgins can come up with something else to test, I think it's a good idea."

"Even if we don't find anything at least you'll know that you've tried everything to find the murderer." She embraced her husband and smiled. "I know you'll never give up trying to find who committed this crime, Booth. I know you'll do the best you can to bring Stephanie's killer to justice. That's one of the many things I love about you...your tenacity."

Booth gave his wife another kiss. "You know, Bones, you're the best wife a guy could ever have. You're right...it would make me feel better if we were able to try some other type of test on the guns. It might also give us some leverage with the leadership of the Guardians. They might've gotten rid of fingerprints and DNA but maybe if they think there's something else for us to test for, they might be more willing to talk about who pulled the trigger." He smiled broadly as they snuggled together on the sofa. "Thanks, Bones."


	13. Chapter 13

Booth was pacing around the Jeffersonian lab like a caged tiger as Hodgins used a pair of scissors to carefully cut the FBI labeling tape encasing the long, rectangular cardboard box. Booth knew this was probably going to be his only chance to figure out who actually shot Stephanie Morrison, and he didn't want to blow it. He was sure that Hodgins knew what he was doing, but it still made him nervous...there was a lot riding on these tests, and he needed everything to be perfect before he handed the evidence over to Caroline Julian.

"So this is it?" Hodgins lifted a gun out of the box with gloved hands. "Wow...this baby looks really wicked...very scary. What kind of gun is it?"

"Yeah, we think that's the weapon that was used in the hit on Stephanie Morrison. That's a .338 Lapua Magnum….a semi-automatic sniper rifle...the kind used by professionals. They did some preliminary tests on it at the field office lab in Lincoln and then they sent it on to Kansas City to run more sophisticated ballistics tests on it, using the information we sent them about the bullet fragments we found in the victim and in her bedroom wall, even though they had to piece the bullet back together. Based on those tests, they feel pretty sure this is the gun that was used to shoot Stephanie Morrison. However, they couldn't get any usable fingerprints or DNA from it, and of course, it's not registered to anyone."

Hodgins looked the rifle over carefully. "Based on the reports they sent me, it looks like they ran all the standard tests in Kansas City, but I imagine they don't have all the resources to do all of the different tests we can do here at the Jeffersonian. Do you know if they fumed it with cyanoacrylate?"

"Cyano what?" Booth stopped pacing long enough to give Hodgins a questioning look. "What the hell are you talking about, Hodgins?"

"Super glue." Hodgins smiled. "It's a low tech procedure, really, but it does require some special equipment that they probably don't have access to in their lab. What about magnetic powder?"

"Super glue and magnets? Jesus! How the hell should I know, Hodgins? I didn't read the goddamn reports...you did! You're the expert, not me! I don't need a play by play description of everything you're gonna do! Just run whatever tests you think you need to run!" Booth was clearly exasperated, ranting loudly as he paced furiously. "That's your job, isn't it, Hodgins? To decide what tests to run on that gun? Aren't you supposed to be king of the whole goddamn lab? The best in the world? So go ahead...run the goddamn tests! Before Christmas, okay? Chop Chop! I've got a murderer to catch!"

Hodgins held up his hands in surrender. "Easy, there, Booth. I want to get the bad guy, too. I'm just clarifying the situation here to make sure I know what's going on, okay? I don't want to miss anything or make a careless mistake, and I don't want to waste time running a test that we don't need to run. We need to make sure we follow all of our testing protocols exactly so that we have a flawless body of evidence for you to present to the prosecutors. I know how important it is to you to nail this guy. I just want to do the very best I possibly can to help you do that."

Booth paused in his ranting, chagrined as he realized that Hodgins was trying to help him as much as he could. "Yeah, you know what, Hodgins? You're right. I know I'm being a pain in the ass...and I know that you're the best in your field. I'm really glad I've got you on my side, you know? Look, I'm sorry. I just really want to take this guy down. How about if I leave you alone now and let you run all of your tests?" Jamming his hands in his pockets, Booth stepped back from the lab table, watching intently as Hodgins began to explain to Dr. Fuentes what was going to happen next as he listed the necessary materials to do the testing.

Hodgins smiled as he turned back to the gun. "First I'm going to use some fluorescent orange powder to dust it for prints and an orange filtered lens to look at it. If that doesn't give us good enough results, I'll try the cyanoacrylate or some polyvinyl-siloxane." He nodded at Booth as he gestured toward the rifle. "All of these tests take time. I'm going to make this my priority, okay? I'll let you know what I find as soon as I can, Booth, but it may take a couple of days." Hodgins took the gun back to his work station so that he and Dr. Fuentes could begin working on it.

Booth dropped by Cam's office later that day. "Cam, can you run ballistics on that rifle we got from Kansas City to be sure their results are correct? I mean, I know they know what they're doing there, but you're the best…"

Cam chuckled at Booth's little bit of flattery and the accompanying charm smile. "Of course, I can, Booth, but I'll have to wait until Hodgins is finished running all of his tests. I may not know anything for a day or two."

Booth pursed his lips as he thought things through. He really didn't want to wait that long, but Cam was the best he'd ever met when it came to ballistics, and he desperately wanted her expertise, so he nodded in agreement. "Okay, that's fine. Like I said, I just want to be sure. I want the evidence to be as close to perfect as we can get. Call me as soon as you get something…"

Now there was nothing to do but wait for the results, which was something Booth didn't do well. It seemed like weeks were dragging by, and Booth jumped whenever his phone rang. The suspense seemed unbearable, and Booth found himself becoming more and more tense. He knew that every passing day lessened their chances of finding Stephanie Morrison's killer. Finally, four days after the rifle had been delivered to the lab, Booth's phone rang. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw it was Cam calling. This was it...this was going to be the answer about whether or not he'd be able to bring down the hit man.

"Booth….we got him. The ballistics match perfectly, and Hodgins was able to pull some prints from the gun using his super glue test. Angela's running them through AFIS now. Oh...just a minute...here's Angela...Good news! Our guy is in the system. The prints belong to Adam Haynes, age 31, Lincoln, Nebraska."

"YES! FINALLY!" The agents in the bullpen looked toward the source of the commotion in surprise, and were amused to see their normally staid, gruff supervisor happily dancing around his office as he yelled excitedly. "WONDERFUL! With this information we can get the Lincoln field office to ask for an arrest warrant for the charge of murdering Stephanie Morrison. Great work, everyone! Thanks! I'm gonna call Lincoln right now!"

Oooooooooo

Booth sat impatiently on the edge of his office chair, fidgeting like a small child, waiting on pins and needles as Aubrey finished his call.

"Okay, great...yeah, I understand." Aubrey gave Booth a silent thumbs up. "Yeah, hold him there in Lincoln until we can arrange extradition to DC, and send some techs out to go over his house again from top to bottom...look for anything that ties him to the Guardians...you know, papers, cancelled checks, information on computer files...stuff like that. If he has any guns at his house or in his storage unit, have the techs confiscate those, too. I bet this isn't the first hit the bastard's pulled off, and we can check his personal firearms against ballistics reports from unsolved murders. If they aren't sure if the stuff is relevant, have them bring it in anyway. Got it? What? Yeah, you, too. Thanks. You guys did a great job. We appreciate all the help."

"Well? What happened, Aubrey? Did they get him?" Booth looked like he was about to burst as he waited for the news. Aubrey sat back in his chair and grinned broadly.

"That was the Lincoln, Nebraska field office. Adam Haynes was arrested at his house in York, Nebraska early this morning without a shot being fired."

"That's great news." Booth was visibly relieved, but also incredulous. "How did the agents find him so easily? I mean, he's a hard core felon, and you'd think he'd be in hiding, wouldn't you? He must've suspected that the law would be looking for him eventually."

Aubrey smirked as he explained to Booth how the arrest had occurred. "His wife turned him in. I guess she couldn't wait to get the son of a bitch out of her house. She's afraid of him because he's been abusive to her and her kids in the past, but she was too scared to leave him because he said he'd hunt her down and blow her and her kids away. A real prince, you know? So when she heard him brag to a bunch of his drinking buddies about murdering a woman in DC, the wife figured she could do her civic duty and get rid of her husband at the same time. She walked to a nearby convenience store to call the local police to let them know what he'd said about killing someone and where he could be found, and they called the FBI office in Lincoln."

"No shots fired?" Booth shook his head in disbelief. "The guy's a hit man. He wouldn't give up without a fight…"'

"Haynes was passed out on the sofa when the SWAT team got there this morning. He'd been on an all night bender with his brothers and a couple of friends. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that his wife put something extra in his Wheaties, though. It seems the SWAT team leader just knocked on the front door, identified himself, and arrested the guy in his own living room after the wife let them in."

"And in return, the Feds will give her and her kids a new identity and a new place to live, so the Guardians can't find her and retaliate, and now everybody's happy, right?" Booth smiled as he sat back in his chair. It was good to know that the guy wasn't going to be able to get away with murdering Stephanie.

Aubrey shrugged. "I'm sure the Feds will help her move out of Nebraska, but the Guardians' organization is in total disarray. Jeremy Harmon kept them together because he had a charismatic personality. Now that he's gone, there's lots of infighting between the different factions. There doesn't seem to be a clear cut winner in the contest to see who gets to be the next 'big dog'. The guys in Domestic Terrorism are gonna keep a close eye on them, but I think they're all gonna fade into the woodwork like the cockroaches they are..."

"When the techs work Haynes' house they need to look for anything that might show O'Rourke hired Haynes as a hit man. I'd really like to get O'Rourke on conspiracy to commit murder." Booth bounced up out of his chair and began to pace his office nervously.

"They did a cursory run through of the house after the arrest, and now they'll go back and look through his computer and phone looking for emails. I guess they took a lot of his personal papers, too. I told the agent I talked to this morning to ask the techs to look for O'Rourke's name in anything they found. If O'Rourke was complicit in Stephanie's death, they'll find the stuff to prove it. As it is, Booth, O'Rourke's going away for a long time..."

"Good. When they're through going over the stuff in Lincoln I want them to send everything they find to the Jeffersonian so we can get Angela to look over the stuff, too, especially the computer stuff. If anyone can decode that shit, it'd be her. Anyway, we're gonna need it here, because I want to have Adam Haynes tried in DC since this is where the murder occurred. I want to be there when that bastard goes down…"

"Yeah, I'm gonna send the Lincoln office an email with all the particulars about how we want the evidence sorted and where we want it sent." Aubrey smiled as he watched Booth pace back and forth across his office. "Well, congratulations. You did it, Booth. You got the murderer, and you took down a crooked FBI agent to go along with it. It looks like a deputy directorship for you if you want it. Can I have your old office when you move upstairs?" Chuckling, Aubrey gestured toward the window. "This office has the best view on this floor."

Booth gazed out the window as he thought about the investigation that had occurred over the last few weeks. "It was the whole team that got these guys, Aubrey. To be successful on this case we needed everyone to do their job. I didn't do anything that special. I was just using all of the tools at my disposal. The fact is that I had a lot of help from you and from the team at the Jeffersonian. With that kind of help anyone can be successful."

"Yeah, but those squints wouldn't work well for anyone else but you, Booth…" Aubrey raised his eyebrow and chuckled as he saw Booth's scowl. "Yeah, okay...whatever you say. Hey, I'm hungry. How about a doughnut break?" Aubrey moved toward the door.

"Yeah, maybe. By the way, I almost forgot...did you ever find out anything about that white van that ran me off the road?" Booth grabbed his jacket and followed Aubrey out of his office.

"Nothing concrete since there weren't any plates to run and no witnesses. Your accident wasn't in a place where there were any surveillance cameras, so there isn't any video. I think it was just a reckless driver instead of anything related to the case. It was probably just a weird coincidence it happened when it did." Aubrey paused as they waited for the elevator, watching Booth fidget nervously with his tie. "Wait, Booth...don't you want Jamison's job?"

"I haven't decided yet. I've got to discuss it with Bones." Booth glanced at Aubrey and shrugged as they got into the elevator. "I didn't really do anything to deserve that promotion. My team and I solved this case to get justice for Stephanie Morrison, not so that I could move to a bigger office and get a new title. I was just doing my job, you know? Anyway, I'm not sure I want to profit that way from her death. That just doesn't seem right, somehow..."

Aubrey nodded as they got off the elevator and toward the exit. "Yeah, I get what you mean about that. But it seems to me that you're about due for a promotion anyway, aren't you? I mean, as long as you've been with the Bureau…"

"If we were just going by years of service, then yeah, probably I'm due, but here's the problem...I've got to decide where I can do the most good, you know? If I'm going to do my job right, I need to be involved in the actual law enforcement part instead of sending someone else to do it. I guess you know how much it really bugs me that we have to rely on those guys in Lincoln to gather up all the evidence from Adam Haynes' house. I don't get to oversee it, and we have to hope they do it right. I know they will, but I still like to be involved in all parts of the case. Maybe some day I'll be happy to sit back and run the show from a desk, but right now...I'm not so sure." Booth glanced over at Aubrey as they got into the SUV. "I guess you may have to wait a few more years to move up to Special Agent in Charge."

Aubrey sighed dramatically, pretending to be upset. "Okay. I guess I can wait a few more years until you're ready to give up the view from your office." He laughed as he watched the fake snarl move across Booth's face. "Who knows? By the time you decide you want to be a Deputy Director, I may be doing something else entirely. Maybe I'll run for Congress or something like that…"

"Right. You do that." Booth shook his head as he considered Aubrey's idea. "I think you'd be better off in the FBI. You might be too tempted to arrest all the crooks in Congress. Hey, did the guys in Lincoln have any idea when they'd be able to send us the stuff they confiscated from Adam Haynes?"

"Maybe the beginning of next week, but they weren't sure. They want to make sure it all gets processed correctly so we can maintain the chain of evidence. No use rushing it, I guess. We need to make sure the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed when we turn it over to Ms. Julian."

"True...but I really can't wait to dig into it...I really hope we can find the stuff linking O'Rourke and Haynes."

"Well, if anyone can do that, Booth, it'll be the folks at the Jeffersonian…"

"You're right. Well, here we are. Let's celebrate, Aubrey." Booth smiled broadly as they entered the doughnut shop. "The first dozen are on me."


	14. Chapter 14

After taking a few hours the day before to celebrate the arrest of the hit man who had allegedly shot Stephanie Morrison, Booth sat at his desk, finalizing the transfer of the old case files to the cloud. _Finally,_ he thought. _Maybe things can get back to normal around here._ The only thing that still bugged him about the Morrison case was the lack of a concrete connection between Michael O'Rourke and Adam Haynes. _That would be the cherry on the sundae...but I guess we can't have everything…_

A quiet cough came from the direction of the office door. "Good afternoon, Agent Booth. May I have a word with you?"

 _So much for things being back to normal…_ "Of course, Director Jamison. Please come in." Booth stood up behind his desk and gestured to one of the armchairs in the corner of his office. "Can I get you a cup of coffee, sir?"

"Oh, no, thank you." Jamison carefully eased himself into the chair. "I just wanted to check on your progress with the evidence from the Stephanie Morrison murder. I know there were several boxes to go through. It must be quite tedious..."

"The team members at the Jeffersonian have been going through all of the papers the Lincoln field office sent us, and I have the computer expert there going through all of Adam Haynes' personal computer files. She says they're encrypted, but she thinks she'll be able to figure out the encryption program by the end of the week."

Director Jamison nodded and pursed his lips slightly. "I see. Well, I'm glad they're making progress. What a remarkable group of people they are, and how fortunate for us that you have such a good working relationship with them. Geniuses can be difficult to work with, you know. However, as I'm sure you are aware, we do have a problem with getting Adam Haynes back to Maryland to stand trial."

"I know he's fighting extradition from Nebraska. His lawyer is concerned that he won't get a fair trial here in the area, correct? Too much publicity about the crime and the jury will be biased?"

"That's part of it, of course, but I think it also it's also a stalling tactic. His lawyer knows the man is guilty and is putting off going to court as long as possible. There isn't any other advantage for him to stay in Nebraska as compared to Maryland, especially since Nebraska has the death penalty. Has the Lincoln office been able to tie Haynes to any open cases in their area?"

Booth shrugged as he looked through some of the emails he'd received from the Lincoln field office. "I'm not sure what progress they've made on that, sir. The Agent in Charge in that office said she had put some people on doing a search through unsolved cases, but I haven't gotten their results yet. She's supposed to email me later this afternoon."

Jamison furrowed his brow as he thought about the situation. "I tell you what, Booth. I'd like you to fly out to Lincoln and interrogate Adam Haynes personally. We need to get him to tell us who ordered the hit...whether it was O'Rourke or someone in the Guardians' hierarchy. If we can link him to a murder in Nebraska, maybe he'd give up the information in exchange for being tried in Maryland, where there is no death penalty. How soon can you leave?"

"I need to check with my wife to be sure, but I think I can leave tomorrow morning. Would that be soon enough, sir?"

"As long as you can go some time this week, I'll be satisfied. Do you think Dr. Brennan would be available to accompany you? Her expertise might be very valuable…"

"If we can arrange for someone to take care of our daughter, I think Dr. Brennan would be willing to assist me. I'll call her and discuss it with her. However, it may take some time to make childcare arrangements. Would you mind if we wait until the day after tomorrow to leave?"

"That should be acceptable. Adam Haynes isn't going anywhere soon as far as I can tell…" Jamison smiled at his own joke. "Alright. Check with Dr. Brennan and let me know how things work out." Jamison rose to leave, but he turned back to face Booth. "Your work on this case has been exceptional, Booth, and I'm extremely pleased with how you've handled things. It was a difficult case, but the way you ran the investigation was exemplary. I want to recommend you for a promotion to deputy director. I'm going to be promoted to director soon, and it would make me very happy to know that someone of your caliber would be taking my place."

"Thank you, sir, but…" Booth stammered around for a minute, unsure of how to respond.

"You don't have to accept the position today. Finish your case and we'll go from there. I'll let you get back to work. Let me know about your availability for a trip to Lincoln." The men shook hands and Jamison left.

Booth called his wife as soon as Jamison left his office. "Hey, Bones...ever been to Nebraska?"

Oooooooooo

Booth glanced at his wife as he steered their rental car out of the airport parking lot in Lincoln, Nebraska. "We'll be at the field office in about thirty minutes. It's downtown, so we might get to see some of the city on the way. I've never been here…"

"It's been a long time since we've been on a trip together to work on a case, Booth. Too bad we couldn't go undercover...although I think Tony and Roxy would be a definite anomaly in Nebraska, don't you?" They both laughed at the idea of the Scalias making an appearance in the Corn Belt. Brennan hesitated slightly, and then continued. "Booth, when Director Jamison called me to thank me for accompanying you on this trip, he mentioned your possible promotion as well. I'm very pleased that he's noticed how proficient you are at your job."

"It's not a big deal, Bones. I haven't even given it that much thought. Let's wait to talk about it until we get home, okay?" It was obvious from Booth's tone of voice that, as far as he was concerned, the discussion about his promotion was over.

Brennan gave her husband a sidelong glance before looking out the passenger window. "I'm surprised that you had your office book our return trip for tomorrow afternoon, Booth. This interrogation really shouldn't take very long...we would've been able to get home tonight." She arched her eyebrow as she turned toward him. "Do you have some sort of hidden agenda I'm not aware of?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't want us to rush the interrogation with Adam Haynes just because we needed to catch a flight. This way we can take our time to get all the facts. Plus, we would've gotten home late, and that would be hard on Christine, you know? We'd have to wake her up when we got to Angela's house to take her home, and then we'd have to get her to go back to sleep again. Angela said she didn't mind keeping her overnight, and I thought it made more sense that way."

"I see...but why aren't we leaving tomorrow morning?" Brennan smirked as she watched her husband fidget. She knew the reason, but wanted to hear him say it.

"Well….I thought that since Angela was willing to keep Christine until tomorrow evening, we could take advantage of the time away from home...just the two of us. I made us a reservation at a nice hotel...on my credit card, not the FBI expense account...so we can spend some quality time together this evening, and sleep late tomorrow morning. What do you think?" Booth grinned and winked at his wife.

"I think it's a very good thing I packed the appropriate sleepwear for such an occasion.", Brennan said primly, winking at him in return.

Booth chuckled. "Actually, for what I have in mind, you don't need any sleepwear at all…."

Brennan smiled as she turned to look out the passenger window again. "I was hoping you'd say that…"

Oooooooooo

Special Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan joined Special Agent Guinn at the interrogation room table. Adam Haynes and his lawyer were already present. The well-dressed man representing Haynes looked at the people across the table from him with a mixture of what seemed to be disdain and boredom. Haynes sat slumped in his chair, staring at the ceiling as he fidgeted with the snaps on his dirty orange prison jumpsuit.

Special Agent Guinn cleared her throat as she began the session. "Mr. Gray, Special Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan are from the Major Crimes unit in Washington, DC. They need to speak to Mr. Haynes about a murder there…"

"My client has nothing to say. You're wasting your time. We'll fight extradition for months...years if we have to. Good day. Come along, Adam." Mr. Gray rose from his chair and patted Haynes on the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Just a minute." Haynes sat up in his chair and looked across the table at Brennan, licking his lips as he winked at her and grinned lewdly. "Hey, Sugar...wanna come with me for a tour the men's room? It's been a long time since I've had someone as cute as you...maybe a quick little blow job? Or maybe you'd like it rough up against the wall…" Haynes cackled loudly until he felt a large fist grab the front of his jumpsuit.

"Back off, you mother fuc…"

"That's enough, Agent Booth!" Brennan pulled her husband's arm away from Haynes. "Sit down, please." She glared at Booth a bit until he returned to his chair. "Actually, Mr. Haynes, we have a different kind of proposition for you." Pulling a file folder from her briefcase, Brennan continued. "You may not be aware that we were able to run ballistics tests on the rifle that has your fingerprints on it."

Haynes smirked as he gestured toward the files. "Of course it's got my prints. It's my own fucking gun, ain't it?"

"Adam, please don't say anything to incriminate yourself further." Mr. Gray was beginning to look nervous as he saw Brennan leaf through the papers in the folder.

"What you may not know, Mr. Haynes, is that we can reverse engineer gunshot wounds. We can now examine gunshot striations on bullet wounds left on bones and use computer programs to tell us what striations the gun would leave on a bullet. Therefore, we can prove which bullets came from your rifle."

"What the hell are you talking about, girlie? You can't prove I shot anyone with that gun…" The bluster was slowly starting to fade from Adam Haynes as he realized what Brennan was telling him.

"Actually, Haynes, she can." Booth smiled proudly at his wife as he looked over the file. "Dr. Brennan is the best forensic anthropologist in the world. So when we showed her this file she was able to use the computer program to prove that State Police Captain Jason Hargas, who was working on a anti-gang task force in Omaha, Nebraska, was shot with your Lapua, and yours were the only prints on that rifle." Booth leaned back in his chair. "I was a military sniper, dude. I didn't let anyone mess with my rifle. That's the way it is with you, too, isn't it? No one fires your gun but you." Booth tapped the folder as he nodded toward Brennan. "She can prove without a doubt that the bullets that killed this guy came from your rifle."

"Bull shit! Goddamn cops are just fucking with me, ain't they, Gray? Ain't no way this would hold up in court, right?" Haynes looked at his lawyer with a panicked expression. "Tell me this don't work…"

"I've actually used evidence like this at criminal trials many times, Mr. Haynes. It's usage is widely accepted in courts of law all over the country." Brennan closed the folder, returning it to her briefcase as she calmly addressed Haynes again. "There were convictions in every one of those cases where I presented this sort of information to jurors. Your fingerprints on the rifle will simply add to that body of evidence."

Booth looked over at Special Agent Guinn. "Murdering a state police officer...that's the death penalty in Nebraska, isn't it?"

Guinn nodded solemnly and frowned at Haynes. "Automatically. No chance of any sort of life without parole sentencing. Mr. Haynes would be a dead man, alright. With the mitigating circumstances...not much of a chance on appeal, either."

Mr. Gray, the lawyer, started to sputter. "Can't we work out some sort of deal? What do you want? Maybe Adam has some information you need."

Leaning forward with a predatory look at the lawyer, Booth pretended to laugh. "Give me one good reason why I should try to keep this sorry excuse for a human being alive? I'd just as soon they fry his ass…"

Brennan cleared her throat softly. "Perhaps, Agent Booth, Mr. Haynes could help us with that information we need about the Guardians, and then, perhaps, he would allow himself to be extradited to Maryland, for trial in Stephanie Morrison's murder." She turned to Mr. Gray. "The trial would take place there because that's where she died. Maryland does not have a death penalty, by the way…."

"Let me confer with my client a minute." Mr. Gray leaned over and spoke quietly to Haynes, who sighed loudly and nodded. "My client would be willing to share some information with you if you will try him in Maryland."

Booth rose from his chair and glared down at Haynes. "Let's see what he knows, first. Okay, Haynes...who ordered the hit on Stephanie Morrison?"

"I don't know his real name. I got an email with a request for my services from someone who said he was familiar with other work I had done for the Guardians because he worked for the feds in some sort of anti-terrorism group. We haggled on line back and forth over the fee, and when we agreed on the price, the guy sent me the particulars and wire transferred half of the fee to my bank account. I got the other half when he confirmed the kill. I never met the guy personally, but I can give you his email address…"

"Fine." Booth watched as Haynes scribbled some words out on a sheet of paper. "We'll check this out. If it leads somewhere positive in the Morrison case, we'll arrange for extradition. We'll be in touch…"

Oooooooooo

It was about eleven the next morning when Brennan's phone alerted her that she had a text message. Groaning, she picked it up and smiled as she poked Booth in the ribs. "Hey, sleepyhead! Wake up! This is good news! Time to come out of your post coital haze for a few minutes."

Booth rolled over and growled playfully. "It better be worth waking up for, since you kept me up all night with your sexual demands on my body!" He threw his arm around her and pulled her close. "And I loved every minute of it, Bones. Okay...what's the good news?"

"Based on the information Haynes gave us yesterday, Aubrey had enough probable cause to get a search warrant allowing him to look at Michael O'Rourke's email correspondence and his computer files. Angela was able to work with the FBI techs to recover some of the deleted email messages."

"Hmmm?" Booth kissed her lips gently. "You better hurry and tell me the rest of it. I'm getting distracted…"

"Booth…" she giggled. "Just a minute. The messages to Adam Haynes requesting the hit came from one of Michael O'Rourke's email addresses. He was the one who ordered the hit on Stephanie Morrison. Aubrey went this morning to arrest Michael O'Rourke on conspiracy to murder a federal law enforcement agent. You did it, Booth! You closed the case. Angela says Aubrey wants us all to have lunch together tomorrow to celebrate."

"Wow! That's great! It looks like O'Rourke will never be able to get out of prison. Stephanie was right. She told me nothing we do on the internet is really private." Booth kissed Brennan passionately. "You know, I don't see why we have to wait 'til tomorrow to celebrate. I know just how I want to celebrate today. Three hours until we have to be at the airport...lots of time for making love…"

Brennan pulled away playfully, texting Angela as she pretending to be scandalized. "What about lunch this afternoon and getting ready to go to the airport? We need some time for that, too. I'll be hungry…"

"We'll order room service. I'll give you fifteen minutes for lunch, and we can shower together to save time…"

"Does it ever save time if we shower together?" Brennan grinned as she shook her head at her husband.

"Well, no...I guess not. Okay, we skip that part just this once and take separate showers...but we're wasting time. C'mere, Baby…."

oooooooooo

Booth came into the kitchen where Brennan was cleaning up after dinner and put his arms around his wife. "It was great celebrating the end of the case with the team from the Jeffersonian today, but I'm glad we're finally home. Christine's had a bath, a story, and now she's in her bed snug as a bug in a rug…"

"Do bugs really crawl into rugs, Booth?" Brennan chuckled reached up to caress her husband's cheek. "Are you trying to tell me that we have the rest of the evening free?"

"That's right. We can do anything you want…" He winked broadly at her, leaving little doubt about what he wanted her to choose for the evening's entertainment.

"Okay…" She took his hand and led him to the sofa. "I want to spend some time talking to you."

"Talk...you mean you want me to talk dirty to you?" He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Maybe later…" She grinned at Booth. "Right now I want to talk about whether or not you want to be a deputy director…"

"Jesus, Bones...way to ruin a romantic evening." Booth sighed in frustration. "I haven't decided yet. Do we really have to talk about that tonight?"

"Yes...we need to clean the atmosphere between us. You've been avoiding the topic and procrastinating about making your decision. We need to discuss this right now."

"You mean clear the air, right? Oh, okay. Let's hear it." Booth knew there'd be no way around it. If he wanted to spend a romantic evening with his wife he had to have this discussion first.

"So, Booth...do you want to be a deputy director?" Brennan tilted her head to watch his reaction to her question.

"I don't know, really." He shrugged as he walked over to the bar and poured himself a Scotch and a glass of wine for her. "I guess it's the next logical step of my career…"

"What exactly does a deputy director do?" Brennan sipped her wine and sat back on the couch. "Would you still get to do field work?"

"I doubt it...I'd assign other people to do field work and I'd supervise them...I'd make sure cases were closed properly, that the chain of evidence was maintained correctly, and I'd check to see if cases were ready to go to trial….things like that. I'd be in charge of work schedules, and I'd have to hold meetings to make sure everybody is on the same page about rules and protocols. Jamison says it would be a smooth transition from being a Special Agent in Charge to being a Deputy Director. I'd have more responsibility, but I'd make more money, and my hours would be more eight to five...I wouldn't get called in at all hours…and there would be less physical wear and tear on my back and feet." Booth took a drink of his Scotch and sighed. "It sounds like a good deal to me."

"We don't really need any more money, and I'm not sure you'd be happy if you couldn't go out into the field any more. You've also complained quite vociferously about all the paperwork you've had to do over the last few weeks as the files were converted for storage on the cloud, Booth. Do you really want to have a position where you have to do more paperwork?"

"Not really, but it seems to me that the responsible thing to do for my family is to be able to provide the best life for them that I can, and this might be a way of doing that…"

"Booth…" Brennan moved against him so his arm was around her. "You've already provided us with a wonderful life. The only thing that could make our life better is for you to be absolutely certain that you are happy in your career. You don't seem excited about making this change. If you have any doubts about taking the directorship, I'd say that you shouldn't take it."

He pulled his wife closer and kissed her gently. "All I need to be happy is to have you in my life, Bones." He chuckled softly. "Poor Jamison. He's spent all that time grooming me to take his place, and now I'm gonna turn him down."

"I'm really glad you've made that decision, Booth. Now, since that's settled…" She whispered something softly into his ear.

"Oh...time to talk dirty, is it?" He twitched his eyebrows at her and grinned as he pulled her up from the sofa. "Listen...I've got something I need to tell you, too..."

Brennan stood up and embraced her husband. "All I really need to hear is that you love me…"

Booth laughed out loud as he took her hand and led her toward their bedroom. "Actions speak louder than words…."

 _A/N: this is the end of my little story. Thanks for reading it and leaving all the nice comments. Laura_


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